The Sound of Silence
by Warmwoollenmittens
Summary: When governess number twelve arrives at the villa, Georg's world is thrown into disarray. It's not in the words they share but in the unspoken gestures, subtle glances and meaningful silences that they begin to come together. But when Georg is brutally attacked, Maria is forced to be stronger than she ever thought possible. (Changed summary, same story)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This fic follows the original storyline and turns into an AU around the time of the party. I know this area is covered a lot but I wanted to explore the gradual change in both characters as they unknowingly fall in love and eventually come together in an alternative way. I don't own the Sound of Music or any of its characters etc etc. Please do review!**

 **Chapter 1: Contempt at first sight**

Maria idled pensively through the sunny streets of Salzburg on her way to the bus stop, reflecting on her most recent talk with the Reverend Mother. Her trusted mentor and confidante had told her only hours ago that it was God's will for her to go out into the world for a short time, to see if she could expect of herself what the cloistered life demanded.

"But _seven_!" Maria muttered to herself again in disbelief, kicking absentmindedly at the ground beneath her feet and remembering her shocked exclamation when the Mother Abbess had told her of her task for the summer. Seven children and a decorated war hero from the Austro-Hungarian imperial navy.

"Not intimidating at all!" She exclaimed to no one in particular, rolling her eyes and shrugging as she lugged her guitar case and weathered carpet bag along with her.

Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre had been a governess, she thought to herself, and she had managed just fine at Thornfield! Well, if you overlooked the mad wife in the attic, the burning down of the estate and the blinding of the master..

Maria shook her head to relieve herself of her somewhat disturbing reverie. Even the tragedies of Thornfield seemed less intimidating than what lay ahead of her! At least Thornfield only housed one child.. Seven just seemed an outrageous number! And given her clumsy ways, burning down the von Trapp villa wasn't exactly an impossibility either.

She had absolutely no experience as a governess and yet she didn't seem to be fairing much better as a postulant. As she ambled towards the bus stop singing loudly and splashing water from the fountain, she pondered over how many times she had kissed the floor in the last month alone for her many indiscretions. It must have been at least fifty - she just couldn't seem to stop singing, dancing, sliding down banisters, climbing trees and saying everything and anything she thought and felt. She wondered whether the Mother Abbess would ever believe she had what it took to dedicate her life to a higher purpose.

"When the Lord closes a door.. Somewhere he opens a window," she tried to convince herself, finally spotting the bus and charging after it due to her tardiness, stumbling over her own feet in the process.

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Georg vonn Trapp was in a dangerous mood - something that had become the norm in recent years - and his staff and children knew better than to disturb him when his was brooding in his study. Governess number twelve was late and his military discipline did not take kindly to tardiness. Taking a large sip of amber liquid from his whiskey tumbler and leaning back in his leather chair impatiently, he felt his anger rise as he recalled the way in which he'd lost governess number eleven. Two hours she had stayed. Two hours into his drive to Vienna he had been called back to fix the mess his unruly children had made. He had been in a terrible rage, utterly resentful of the fact he'd been so quickly called upon to return to the place he so often wished to escape: home. It had been the same with the previous ten and he was beginning to lose his patience. They had all been completely incapable of maintaining discipline and his house simply couldn't be run without it, resulting in his having to return on all ten occasions when all he wanted to do was stay away. There were too many memories, too much heartache that greeted him whenever he returned. And his children had bared the brunt of his angry resentment each and every time.

A sharp knock at the door startled him from his thoughts and he grunted impatiently to give permission for entry. It was Franz, alerting him to the arrival of number twelve. _It's about time_ , he thought, mentally preparing himself for the usual routine of drilling the new governess with his exact expectations. He demanded nothing but the utmost orderliness and decorum from all of his staff and he had high hopes that a stiff-upper-lipped, no-nonsense nun from Nonnberg Abbey would be just what his household needed when it came to restoring discipline. The sooner he could recruit a worthy second-in-command and consequently leave for Vienna, the better.

He could feel himself slipping already, falling into the silent despair that so often plagued him when at home and he felt an urgent desire to see Elsa, her elegant grace, charming witticisms and lavish lifestyle a welcome distraction that soothed the heavy ache in his chest. Activity suggested a life filled with purpose and it was in Vienna he felt most active - surrounded by idle gossip, parties, champagne and aristocracy that, while superfluous and somewhat tedious at times, still conveniently distracted him from his suffering. He was seriously considering marrying Elsa - after all, she had brought some meaning back into his life since he'd lost his beloved Agathe. And his logical mind told him it made sense - she came from a wealthy, aristocratic family, she was elegant, witty, graceful, the perfect hostess - everything a baroness ought to be. Not to mention the children desperately needed a new mother.

 _But for now, they'll have to make do with number twelve_ , Georg thought as he dismissed Franz and made his way through the door to get the introductions and briefing over with as quickly and efficiently as possible.

He marched through the corridor, his back straight and shoulders back, ready for battle. He had no intention of dillydallying through his first meeting with number twelve and she would be made fully aware from the get go that he was a man not to be trifled with. His pristine shoes clicked against the marble with each step as he entered the grand entranceway but he stopped short, the silence ringing in his ears when he was greeted by.. _No one_. His hall was completely deserted. _Where on earth was number twelv_ e? Franz knew to instruct each arrival to wait in the entranceway but the only evidence of anyone's presence was the old carpet bag and guitar case abandoned in the corner. Georg rolled his eyes and snorted with derision - whoever brought that infernal instrument with them would soon learn that it would remain in that case gathering dust for the entirety of their stay.

He snapped to attention suddenly when his eyes fell on the open ballroom doors a few feet away from the abandoned belongings. Feeling his irritation escalate into outright anger, he marched across the hall to confirm his suspicions, a deep scowl creasing his forehead. Surely number twelve wouldn't dare? Who on earth would have the audacity to snoop in another's home just minutes after arriving? Those doors had remained closed for almost four years, apart from one or two occasions when he would go there late at night to allow the sorrow to engulf him in privacy. That room belonged to him and Agathe alone and he felt the rage bubble in his chest as he approached, ready to evoke fear in whoever dared to intrude on his precious memories.

Maria leapt up in alarm from her bowed position when she heard the doors of the ballroom slam open. A tall, broad silhouette loomed there in its intimidating glory - it's arms spread wide against the doors and its stance poised as if ready for attack. It said nothing for several moments, eyeing its prey, and finally moved to one side against the doorframe - a silent indication that Maria should make a very swift exit. She scurried from the room, unable to tear her gaze from the haughty figure before her - finally able to make out his facial features as she drew nearer. Squeezing past him in the doorframe, she caught sight of his deep scowl, his strong jaw set in anger, his immaculate hair peppered slightly with grey at the temples and, most unsettling of all, his piercing blue eyes.

 _Captain von Trapp._

"In future you'll kindly remember there are certain rooms in this house that are not to be disturbed!" He snapped as she nodded her understanding and forced herself to keep quiet. Somehow she didn't think he'd appreciate being told that her curiosity had simply gotten the better of her.

That very same curiosity led her to study his face in more detail now as the light of the hall fell on him. How different he seemed from the man she had imagined on her way to the villa! She had pictured a bushy beard, tobacco, a swollen belly hanging over his trousers, a monocle.. She couldn't help but grin as she stared at him, finding humour in the ridiculousness of her previous assumptions.

As he closed the ballroom door behind him and reprimanded number twelve for her insolence, Georg found himself subjected to her wide eyed stare. The previous eleven had barely been able to look him in the eye when he'd used intimidation tactics and yet number twelve scrutinised him with open and evident curiosity. It was deeply unsettling.

"And why do you stare at me that way?" he barked, his eyes narrowing. Much to his irritation, his harsh tone did nothing to wipe the infuriating smile from her face. On the contrary she seemed positively breezy, as if it were perfectly normal to be caught bowing like a fool in somebody else's private ballroom.

"It's just.. You don't look at all like a sea captain sir," she breathed, grinning again with that ridiculous air of contentment that thoroughly riled him. He raised his eyebrows at her forthrightness and bit back a series of condescending remarks he felt inclined to make. Intimidation didn't seem to work with this one - perhaps mockery would keep her in line.

"I'm afraid you don't look very much like a governess," he sneered sarcastically, demanding that she turn around and take off her hat as he noted the dowdy appearance of her godawful dress and the oddity of her short haircut. Would there been no end to his exasperation with these infernal governesses? She looked utterly ridiculous. She was a tiny slip of a girl who looked completely incapable of disciplining a rabbit let alone seven headstrong children.

"It's the dress," he muttered, knowing full well he was being kind by blaming the garment alone for his less than enthusiastic response to number twelve, "you'll have to put on another one before you meet the children."

She proceeded in vexing him further as she began babbling proudly about having given all her belongings to the poor and being able to make her own clothes. Enough of this nonsense, he thought, promising absentmindedly to have some material delivered. It was time to get down to business.

Maria felt oddly perplexed when she fell under the Captain's intense scrutiny, as he clicked his fingers at her like a dog to demand her name. He began circling her, barking orders left, right and centre until her head spun. If she understood correctly from his rapid exclamations, she was the twelfth in a long line of governesses that were completely unable to maintain discipline. She realised to her horror, that she'd ask aloud whether there was anything wrong with the children and he had stopped short, fixing her with such a look of contempt she almost bent to the ground to kiss the floor out of habit.

He continued to bark orders until she saluted playfully in affirmation, only to find that this particular sea captain didn't seem to have a sense of humour. She met his intense glare with another breezy smile, which was quickly replaced by a look of utter horror as he took a boatswain whistle from his pocket and blew it sharply.

Georg smirked inwardly, feeling a sense of deep satisfaction at finally being able to wipe the smile from the unflappable Fraulein's face. He watched smugly as she retreated against the wall, the thundering footsteps of his troupe startling her into movement. But his satisfaction was short lived. Irritation flooded through him once again when Briggita sidled in late clutching a book, and he was equally as annoyed a few minutes later when Gretl failed to introduce herself after being called upon. Were his children hell bent on making a mockery of his disciplinary skills? He noticed the Fraulein's small smirk and it irked him more so than it should have.

Just when he thought his patience couldn't possibly be stretched further, the little Fraulein outright refused to answer to his whistle, referring to it as _humiliating_. The only thing humiliating about this entire scene was the absolutely mockery everybody seemed to be making out of him. In those moments, he was utterly convinced that the eight people in the room had united to conspire against him. Did nothing phase this woman?

Heading past the children to make a swift exit before his temper got the better of him, he was shocked into paralysis, freezing on the spot when he heard the shrill blow of his own whistle. _Surely number twelve hadn't dared_...

Maria noted the fury in the Captain's eyes as he turned excruciatingly slowly to face her. She realised with a hint of amusement that she may very well have given him a taste of his own medicine. And from the look on his face, it tasted particularly bitter!

"Excuse me sir, I don't know your signal," she mused innocently as his eyes narrowed into slits.

Now there was absolutely no doubt in Georg's mind that this mere slip of a girl standing in front of him, with a knowing smile on her face, was daring to taunt him.

" _You may call me Captain_."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I hope you're enjoying the story so far. There's a lot of build up in this story so thanks for your patience and do stick with it because all the steamy, delicious angst will soon make itself known! As always I don't own TSOM and please do review!**

 **Chapter 2: Mutiny**

Georg was back behind his desk, papers spread in front of him in a somewhat haphazard manner by his standards. He was working on something relatively complex and particularly discreet for the British Royal Navy as a result of the potential threat of Nazi warfare that loomed over Europe. He hadn't made many efforts to conceal his strongly opposing views of the Nazi campaign and the Brits had caught wind of his naval expertise, thanks to the connections and charismatic tongue of Robert Whitehead - the inventor of the torpedo who just happened to also be his late wife's father.

Brooding over the recent rumours of an upcoming Anschluss, Georg felt his mood take a turn for the worse again and threw his fountain pen across the room in frustration. Not only had he lost his navy and his wife, but God wanted to take his beloved homeland from him as well. The country he fought so desperately to keep, the country he watched men die for, the country he wanted to watch his children grow up in. The only real love he had left was for his homeland and soon there may not even be an Austria. _Well damn God, damn Hitler, damn Agathe, damn the children, damn them all._

 _The children_... Where were they? It had been a good few hours since he'd introduced them to number twelve and he had been completely undisturbed ever since. If his past eleven experiences with governesses were anything to go by, he should have been interrupted at least twice by now to be alerted to his children's latest indiscretions and he would have dismissed the young Fraulein's concerns with a bored wave of his hand and a promise to increase her pay if she stayed. Some of the previous eleven had made it a few more days, one or two had made it a week or so.. Others had lasted mere hours.

Feeling rather uneasy about the lack of disturbance and growing increasingly more claustrophobic surrounded by so much paperwork, Georg decided to take a short break and summon number twelve to see how she was fairing after having spent the afternoon getting to know his children. It was far too quiet and he didn't trust this slip of a girl to have any real disciplinary influence on his brood. Refilling his decanter for the third time that day, knowing full well it was probably one too many, he called upon Franz to summon the Fraulein while he filed away the documents he'd been working on. He would've reached for his whistle to call upon her himself but he already knew he'd be blowing it until he was blue in the face.

 _"Whistles are for dogs and cats and other animals but not for children and definitely not for me,"_ he mimicked the Fraulein's words in mock femininity, rolling his eyes and snorting with disdain.

It wasn't long before number twelve idled in after a soft knock on the door, her eyes scouring the room nosily and her mouth hanging open in wonder, before greeting him with the same wide eyed stare that had betrayed her curiosity that very morning. He found it just as infuriating now as he did then.

"Take a seat please Fraulein," he muttered, gesturing to one of the armchairs in front of his desk. To his surprise she obeyed his order with no real objections, plonking herself down and proceeding to fidget while staring at him as she waited for the reason as to why she'd been summoned. Would she ever stop staring at him?!

"I trust that everything is under control?" He snapped, taking a sip from his glass to take the edge off. Something about this woman deeply riled him and she hadn't even opened her mouth yet. She seemed completely unaffected by his authority, completely unphased by his abruptness and it left him utterly bewildered.

"Oh yes, Captain!" Maria gushed, fully aware she would have to say a few Hail Mary's later to compensate for the elaborate lie, "the children and I have spent the afternoon getting acquainted and we've all been having an absolutely splendid time! They've been familiarising me with the household, introducing me to the staff, showing me their regular routine.. They are lovely little dears."

"How positively enchanting," the Captain drawled sarcastically but it was completely lost on Maria, who took his derision for genuine interest and continued to babble about her successes with his seven _little dears_.

Maria was fully aware she should quit while she was ahead but she found that the lie, once told, continued to tumble from her lips of its own accord - creating such a picture of perfection that she was sure the Captain saw right through her. His lips were tightened into a thin smirk as he listened with mock fascination while his eyes portrayed complete disinterest. Nevertheless, she continued to spin her web of lies in an attempt to rouse at least some positivity in this man but she soon realised her efforts were futile.

The truth was the children had been absolute terrors from the moment she'd been left alone with them. It had started with the frog in her pocket and had escalated to her carpet bag being emptied out of a window, her bible being stolen and held for ransom, her guitar strings being twisted completely out of tune and her shoes being filled with soil. She had come very close to losing her temper with them and storming down to the study to alert their father but she had quickly reprimanded herself for her lack of patience. Here were seven souls who had lost their mother and quite clearly needed a little bit of time and affection after years of neglect by an emotionally absent father. She would carry out God's will wholeheartedly and if it meant putting up with a few pranks in the process then so be it.

"Yes yes yes, alright," the Captain interrupted her tale impatiently, and she realised she'd been babbling elaborately for minutes on end as he waved his hand in an attempt to finally silence her, "as thoroughly engrossed as I am in your intricate recollection of every single thing that has come to pass since our last meeting, I think I've heard quite enough."

Maria sealed her lips abruptly and silently chastised herself for her running mouth. The Captain stood and began pacing behind his desk, his hands fastened behind his back and his chest puffed out in such an exaggerated manor that Maria had to stifle a giggle as she noted his uncanny resemblance to a strutting pigeon. Did he realise how amusing he looked?

He was back to barking orders and she found herself zoning out rather rapidly, concentrating instead on his appearance, which she still found rather curious. He didn't look at all like a sea captain - that much was certain - but there was something in his face that suggested there was more to this man than met the eye. Behind the permanent scowl was a pleasantness, a kindness, and it struck Maria that perhaps he hadn't always been so disagreeable.

"I expect they will be marching about the grounds breathing deeply within the next thirty minutes Fraulein and I also expect them to be absolutely pristine for dinner at exactly 1800 hours. No exceptions."

"Aye aye Captain!"

The eerie silence that followed was palpable as the Captain stopped his pacing and turned to face her, his eyebrows raised in such bewilderment she thought he'd lose them to his hairline. But before long the surprise was replaced by a familiar contempt as he fixed her with his steely glare. Definitely not the humorous type, Maria reminded herself, biting back a smile.

"You are dismissed," he ordered, taking a seat again as Maria made her way to the door, relieved to finally be free of his scrutiny for the time being.

"Fraulein, one more thing," he demanded as she turned in the doorway to face him, "seven children is a lot to handle, I often expect their governesses to keep themselves in peak physical condition in order to keep up. I highly recommend some marching about the grounds yourself."

An amused smirk tugged at the Fraulein's lips, "I'll be sure to _breathe deeply_ , sir."

He nodded in satisfaction as she left the room, only to realise too late that number twelve had just succeeded in taunting him for the second time that day.

* * *

Maria prepared for bed as she reflected on the absolute shambles that had been her first dinner at the von Trapp villa. She had to hand it to the children, the pine cone on the chair had been particularly creative and they had thoroughly succeeded in their plot to embarrass her. It was difficult to be angry with them though, when the real culprit behind their rebellion was the ignorant, pig-headed man sat at the head of the table. The Captain's subtle ridicule after she'd jumped from her chair was just about the only thing he'd said throughout the entire meal, and she was beginning to lose her patience with his complete lack of interest in his own children. How could he be so indifferent to their needs? It was beginning to infuriate her but perhaps she just needed to exercise some more patience. After all, according to Frau Schmidt, the Captain had suffered a great loss and hadn't been the same since his wife passed away. For the first time after meeting him, Maria felt a twinge of pity for the man, so wrapped up in his own grief that he had eliminated all the happiness from his home and erased every meaningful memory.

Still, he would be bringing this _Baroness Shraeder_ back with him after his visit to Vienna - and if Frau Shmidt was correct in her assumptions, the children would soon have a new mother. Perhaps an influential female presence would soften the Captain's iron will and bring the children some much needed affection.

Satisfied in her thoughts, Maria bent across her luxurious bed in prayer, the only sound the heavily beating raindrops against the window as a storm raged on outside. It was only toward the end of her monologue that she noticed a sopping wet Leisl attempting to sneak across the room unseen.

"And now dear God, about Leisl!" She exclaimed with emphasis, causing the girl to freeze in her tracks, "help her to know that I'm her friend and help her to tell me what she's been up to."

The guilt on the girl's face spoke for itself and she began gushing through her excuses, only to have her governess shush her so that she could finish her prayer.

"You're not going to tell father are you?" The apprehension in the young girl's eyes spoke volumes - clearly these children were deeply afraid of their father and Maria couldn't blame them. He was obviously an honourable, brave and respectable man but he was also foul-tempered, disagreeable and undeniably stubborn.

After a lengthy discussion about how easy it was for the children to scale the building in order to play all manner of tricks on their governesses, Maria decided that it was perhaps for her own good to get this mischievous girl on side. Just this once, she would turn a blind eye and protect this headstrong sixteen year old from her father's wrath. Sure enough, once Leisl realised her secret was safe with her governess, she acquiesced willingly, telling Maria all about her secret meetings with Rolf, the handsome telegram boy.

"Oh Fraulein, he's just so _wonderful_! Every time I see him I feel as though my world is just beginning!" She was beaming from ear to ear as she recalled how the boy had finally kissed her, describing with beautiful vividness how the butterflies had erupted in her stomach and how she'd felt as though she could hardly breathe, "have you ever been in love Fraulein?"

Despite being incredibly happy for her eldest charge, Maria's smile wavered slightly at the question. She couldn't help but feel a slight sadness - no, she had never experienced young love.. Or any kind of romance for that matter - and it was something she would never experience in her chosen path. But she was blessed with God's love and she quickly reprimanded herself for being less than fully grateful for everything she did have.

"I can't say there are many young men at Nonnberg Abbey, Leisl," Maria quipped, earning a giggle from the girl. She was immediately grateful for the sudden interruption to the topic at hand when a loud clap of thunder startled them from their conversation, swiftly followed by the bedroom door flying open to reveal a terrified Gretl hurtling towards the bed.

It wasn't long before all seven of her charges were congregated around her, burying themselves under the covers to shelter themselves from the aggression of the storm. Even the boys had succumb to their need for comfort, despite being hell bent on ridding themselves of governess number twelve.

As another clap of thunder shook the room, Maria decided there was only one thing for it. Whenever she was feeling down, she would tell stories and sing and dance until she'd forgotten all about her worries. And soon enough all eight of them were charging around the room, laughing and shouting and twirling until her head spun and she realised with a surge of elation that she was winning these children over, slowly but surely. No longer were their faces grave and insolent but rosy and smiling, the storm long forgotten as they danced and played as if for the very first time.

Had it really been as simple as showing them a little compassion? These poor children weren't terrors at all but lost souls in desperate need of guidance, comfort and love. How long had they suffered, she wondered as she lifted Gretl high into the air before throwing a pillow at Kurt, whose hearty laughter filled the room with happiness.

As quickly as the fun had started, it was brought to an abrupt and alarming halt when, much to Maria's dismay, she catapulted headlong into a solid mass of skin and muscle. _The Captain._

Her heart sank as the smiles rapidly vanished from the children's faces and they practically fought to get past one another into a straight line. She was in for it now, if the Captain's infernal scowl was any indication of his thoughts on the matter. If she didn't know better she would've assumed those angry lines on his face were permanently etched into his skin, as if tattooed there. It was a shame really - he was, after all, quite a pleasant looking man. She may be a postulant but she was still a woman and she recognised a handsome man when she saw one - in the lateness of the evening he looked slightly less rigid as she noticed the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, the comfortable velvet smoking jacket, and the few stray hairs that were falling forward and brushing his forehead. He might've even looked charming if it wasn't for that stupid scowl. He was a perfect example of the fact that beauty was only skin deep and that frown had twisted his features into something ugly and sinister.

"Hallo!" She breezed optimistically, as if the positivity in her voice would somehow cause the Captain to forget his disagreeable ways and suddenly burst into song and dance himself.

No such luck.

Georg couldn't quite believe his eyes. Did this insolent young woman have the audacity to allow his children to prance around like animals in the early hours of the night? He had heard absolute mayhem breaking out when he was on his way to bed and had followed the caterwauling only to discover number twelve flying around the bedroom as though she might become airborne in that utterly ridiculous tent of a nightgown. And she had the nerve to greet him with that very same breeziness that already filled him with a fiery rage!

"Fraulein, did I not tell you that bedtime is to be strictly observed in this house?" He growled with a hostility that would've sent the bravest of navy cadets running for the hills. This woman however, clearly had no idea who she was dealing with, because she started to retaliate with a determination in her eyes that made him want to bunch the material of that never-ending nightgown in his hand and stuff it in her mouth to stop her perpetual prattling.

He was immensely satisfied to discover that his icy stare was all it took to silence her on this occasion and she eventually dismissed the children, who scurried past them as quickly as possible, avoiding his scolding eyes. He was now alone with number twelve and he was more than ready to teach her a lesson or too about discipline.

"They were merely scared by the storm sir, I was trying to -"

"They'll soon learn that fear is a wasted emotion," he snapped, interrupting her exasperatedly as he began pacing around her for the second time that day.

"As are all other emotions, _according to you_ ," Maria muttered to herself.

"I beg your pardon?!" He whirled around on the spot to face her as she realised her running mouth had got the better of her yet again. The Captain loomed over her, invading her personal space in his fury - she'd definitely taken it too far this time. Surely he would fire her instantly for her insolence.

"Forgive me sir, I forget myself," she replied calmly, meeting his thundering stare confidently, "The children were scared and I thought I would do my best to provide some _much needed_ comfort and reassurance.."

She was talking about far more than just the storm and she wondered if the double meaning of her words hadn't been lost on the Captain, who's expression seemed to soften slightly in surprise. Did she see a hint of shame in his face? Whatever it was, it disappeared in a flash and she told herself she must have imagined the angst that temporarily haunted those piercing eyes as the steely glare returned in full force.

She was staring at him again, the meaning of her words all too clear. It deeply unsettled him and he felt the discomfort prickle down the base of his spine, anger bubbling in his chest at the fact that she could have such an effect on him. How dare she pass judgement - she knew nothing of his suffering. He'd had quite enough of this ridiculous mockery she was making of his entire household and he would have fired her on the spot if it wasn't for the fact that he desperately wanted to leave for Vienna in the morning. He needed to escape this suffocating depression he could feel clutching at him the longer he stayed.

"You have managed to remember I'm leaving for Vienna in the morning?" He snipped, making his way towards the door to escape her scrutiny. She nodded in affirmation, her face conveying her evident frustration. Good, maybe he was getting through to her.

"Do kindly remember that the first rule in this house is discipline and I trust that once I return, you will have acquired some!"

He felt smugly satisfied with his closing statement, believing that he'd finally managed to put the Fraulein in her place. But much to his dismay, he realised it'd had no such effect when she suddenly dared to ask for more material to make play clothes for the children. _Was this woman entirely deluded?! She had just ignored everything he'd said!_

" _Goodnight_ Fraulein," he muttered in exasperation, completely ignoring her request and spinning on his heels to leave the room - the image of that dowdy nightgown stuffed in her mouth still satisfyingly vivid in his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I hope you like this new development - I'm going to try and update quite regularly. I've also changed the summary slightly to give a better idea of what this story entails. I'm currently setting the scene but do not fear, it will soon become** AU.

 _She was stood before him in his study dressed in that ridiculous nightgown again, her eyes as wild as her fury as she dared to reprimand him for the way he ran his household._

 _She was ranting in full force, hardly allowing him to get a word in edge ways and it filled him with a blinding rage._

 _"That's quite enough out of you Fraulein!" He bellowed, storming out from behind his desk to square up to her. If this woman wanted a fight, he'd give her a fight. But his threat was drowned out by her verbal assault as she continued to shout over him fearlessly and his blood pounded in his ears as he thought of the many ways he desperately wanted to silence her, "I said that will do!"_

 _Her poisonous words echoed around him as she continued her passionate monologue and he took several long and intimidating strides towards her, scowling dangerously and invading her personal space like a lion poised for attack until eventually she was backed against the bookcase, her confidence wavering._

 _He took immense satisfaction in having this effect on her but she still wasn't silenced. Her words finally faltered when he stepped so close they were toe to toe and he noticed her chest suddenly heaving, the pulse thundering at her throat as his hands moved of their own accord, bunching the material of her infuriating nightgown in his fists. Agonisingly slowly he dragged the material upwards as his steely eyes bore into hers, driven by the overwhelming compulsion to finally stuff the garment in her mouth and silence her for good. So hellbent he was on shutting her up, he barely recognised how utterly ludicrous his behaviour was, his knuckles skimming her torso as he brought the material higher in his efforts to intimidate her._

 _To his bewilderment, the Fraulein's eyes didn't convey the fear he'd expected but instead darkened with something unreadable, and his breathe caught in shock when she raised her arms apprehensively into the air as if inviting him to pull the garment over her head. Thoughts of silencing her long forgotten, his heart began to thud in his ribs as he realised what she was allowing him to do, and the room suddenly pulsated with a new and dangerous charge. He felt an intense pull of anticipation in his groin and he watched, perplexed, as his hands acted independently of his body and pulled the nightgown slowly up, removing it from her supple frame and dropping it to the floor at their feet._

 _Before he could grasp what was happening, his eyes were raking over her naked form hungrily, finally able to see the delectable curves that only moments ago were hidden under that frustrating tent. It was this that had driven him crazy, he realised, his mouth watering as he drank in the sight of her milky skin, her full breasts just longing to be touched and tasted. She looked at him unashamedly as their eyes met again and before he knew it he was giving in to the raw desire pulsing through his veins and pinning her to the bookcase with his entire body, capturing her mouth with his own in a desperate rush of heat and frustrated lust. She moaned deeply into his mouth at the sudden contact as their tongues danced frantically and he instantly hated his own clothes as much as he detested her nightgown, wishing to be rid of them in his desperation for skin on skin contact where her heaving breasts were pressed against his shirt._

"Captain," _she gasped urgently against his swollen lips, causing his head to reel as her nimble fingers clawed at his belt buckle impatiently,_ "please..."

Georg awoke with a violent shout in the guest room of Elsa's villa, twisted and sweating in the sheets as the intense arousal from his vivid dream still pulsed through his entire body. _Well, that was certainly one way to silence the Fraulein!_ He thought, completely baffled by the route his subconscious had taken. _What the hell had just happened?!_

He hadn't had a dream so lustful in years and he felt the anger rising in his chest at the fact it was the little Fraulein that had had such an unwelcome effect on him. It had all seemed so real and it entirely unnerved him as he tried to shake the imaginary taste of her sweet tongue still on his lips. He'd had an active two weeks at Elsa's villa - a welcome distraction from the vexing situation back at home. He hadn't heard from Frau Schmidt at all regarding the conduct of the new governess and yet number twelve and her damned nightgown were suddenly invading his sub-conscious?! It was absolutely maddening!

He glared at the clock on the far side of the room and realised with another surge of irritation, that he had overslept. He _never_ overslept. But then again he never did feel at home enough in Elsa's villa to sleep peacefully. Coming to think of it, he rarely slept peacefully in his own home these days either. Even now, when caught in the confusing interlude between asleep and awake, he would roll over in his bed searching for Agathe's warm and comforting body, wanting desperately to pull her close against him and tell her how deeply he loved her - only to feel the overwhelming emptiness of reality engulfing him when he clutched at nothing but thin air.

He would lay awake for hours then, torturing himself with memories that he would later force himself to bury deep within. And once or twice, very rarely, he would truly let go and allow himself to _feel_. He would allow himself to sob for her, sob for his children, deep racking sobs of all-consuming grief for their loss and what it had done to them. He would sob until eventually he felt too ashamed of his weakness and he would adopt the authoritarian mask once more.

Pushing thoughts of Agathe aside bitterly and hauling himself out of bed, he made a quick effort of getting dressed, wanting to rush through a pot of coffee and clear his foggy mind before he, Elsa and Max were due to make the trip back to Aigen in an hour's time.

He realised with annoyance, as he descended the stairs, that he'd even managed to out-sleep Max, who happened to be waiting for him in the hallway with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"A little too much brandy last night Georg?" He teased, stroking his moustache absentmindedly and fixing his friend with a smirk, "your discipline is slipping my friend! Elsa got so tired of waiting for you that she has decided to forgo breakfast and elope with me instead."

The double meaning of the impresario's joke was not lost on Georg. It was true that he had been courting Elsa for rather a long time now and she would soon grow impatient of his apparent inability to make an offer of marriage. If she was indeed growing tired of it already, as Max had suggested, she'd certainly never show it - if there was one thing Georg knew about Elsa Shraeder it was that her aristocratic sophistication left no room for wearing her heart on her sleeve.

"Max you are outrageous!" The woman in question sashayed out of the breakfast room and looped her arm through Max's, laughing gracefully at his witticism and fixing Georg with a flirtatious smile.

"That's certainly _one_ word to describe him.." Georg muttered, earning another titter of laughter from Elsa.

"Well how else would you describe me Georg?" Max teased, "Other than wickedly intelligent, irresistibly charming and dare I say it, devilishly handsome?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively at Elsa and flashed her a wicked grin, causing her to throw her head back in laughter again while Georg rolled his eyes.

He descended the rest of the stairs and greeted the graceful beauty with a peck on her cheek, flashing Max a playfully warning look, "I'd describe you as a very charming sponge, Max, nothing more, nothing less."

The impresario grinned satisfactorily, "I take that as a great compliment!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The boat rocked dangerously on the water of the lake but its eight occupants were having far too much fun to notice. It was a beautiful sunny day in Aigen and Maria conducted her charges with vigour at the head of their musical vessel, while the children sang and laughed and shouted without a care in the world.

She had decided to set herself small and achievable goals in fulfilling God's will at the von Trapp villa and she couldn't help but feel proud of what she had so far accomplished. Her first goal had been to win the trust and respect of the seven little von Trapps and her second goal had been to teach them to sing for the Baroness. Not only had she managed to achieve her first goal since the night of the storm, but she had also gotten to know each and every one of these fascinating children as individuals - understanding their needs, learning their characters and memorising their little dispositions - from Kurt's constant hunger and Friedrich's pensive maturity, to Briggita's book obsession and Leisl's penchant for romance.

As for her second goal, the children's enthusiastic rendition of _Do Rei Me_ was proof enough that she had accomplished something wonderful. Not only had they turned out to be naturally gifted, but singing seemed to have opened up a whole new world previously unknown to them - a world of joy and confidence and affection.

She beamed with pride and sang even louder until suddenly the children's crescendos were replaced by excited shouts of 'father' as they stood and began waving frantically towards the shore. She whirled around to locate the source of their excitement and that's when she saw him.

 _The Captain._

He had returned! She noted how he was standing almost casually, leaning against the balustrade with the Baroness beside him waiting for them to return to shore. From a distance he looked quite relaxed in his demeanour and it filled her with happiness. The Baroness must have had the calming effect on him that Maria had anticipated. She couldn't wait to show him just how far the children had come and how much they had achieved in such a short space of time. How proud he would be of the way they had blossomed! She could already imagine the beaming smiles of pride that would grace the children's faces in light of his imminent praise. Maybe he would see just how much they desperately needed him. In her enthusiasm, she jumped up to greet him, "Oh Captain! You're home!"

Georg was absolutely seething with unrelenting rage. He watched, dumbstruck, as all seven of his children and his godforsaken governess tumbled, as if in slow motion, from his boat into the murky lake beneath them. As he frantically counted each head that popped above the water, he realised, with a jolt of dread, that it was indeed his children that Elsa had spotted climbing trees on their drive back to Aigen _. Climbing trees and falling in lakes for Gods sake?! Had they marched around the grounds breathing deeply even once in his absence?!_

"Come out of that water at once!" He bellowed, becoming increasingly more irate when his commands seemed to go unnoticed, all with Elsa as witness to his children's abominable behaviour. There was only one thing he knew would put a stop to this utter madness. Bringing his boatswain whistle to his lips, he blew it louder than he thought possible, the deafening noise seeming to silence not only the children but the breeze and the birds as well.

"Straight line!" He barked, achieving the desired outcome immediately. Taking in their disheveled appearance with a look of disgust and tugging the headscarf from Louisa's sopping hair, it dawned on him that he recognised the material of their bizarre attire but he couldn't think for the life of him where he'd seen it before.

It was now an absolute certainty to Georg that a mutiny had taken place in his absence. Number twelve had clearly commandeered his children and the eight of them were quite simply hell bent on utterly humiliating him. Leaving the Fraulein as second in command had been a terrible mistake as he had known it would be from the start.

Through teeth clenched so tight he thought his jaw might break, Georg introduced Elsa to his little liabilities and dismissed them abruptly, appalled by the sight of them. He noted almost instantly that, amidst the mayhem, the Fraulein had fixed him with a scrutinising scowl riddled with judgment. She was disappointed in him and the fact that this bothered him left him entirely enraged. _How dare she silently chastise him in such a way!_

She had the nerve to walk away from him then, when his furious glare would have frozen any other person to the spot.

"Fraulein you will stay right here!"

Even Elsa sensed the danger in his voice and quickly excused herself as the governess turned calmly and collectively to face him, her chin pointed in defiance. Despite himself, Georg's breath hitched unexpectedly at the distracting sight of her soaked dress, which clung to her form like silk, evoking suppressed images of her naked body pushed up against his bookcase.

Before he could stop them, his eyes were drifting lower of their own accord and he inwardly reprimanded himself for noticing that her breasts betrayed how cold she was in her dripping wet state. He felt the same sudden pull in his lower body that he'd felt in his dream and he turned away from her angrily, pacing the length of the veranda to distract himself from her appearance.

He had intended to denigrate her for her handling of her charges, to put her in her place and make it clear that play clothes and boat rides and tree climbing were unacceptable. He had planned to deliver this speech with the utmost effectiveness. But before he knew it the tables had turned and it was as if his dream was unfurling around him as she began to chastise him furiously for his treatment of his children. One after the other the harsh words tumbled from her mouth with reckless abandon - _Leisl was turning into a woman before his very eyes, Friedrich wanted to be a man like him, Kurt pretended he was tough while really he was hurting, the little ones just wanted to be loved_ \- and he found that he was shouting right back at her in his desperate attempts to block out the truth. Still she raged on, and he wanted to slap his hands over his ears and squeeze his eyes tight shut like a vulnerable child to keep her poison at bay. He wanted to beg her to stop, beg her to understand - of course he loved his children, could she not see how much it pained him? He loved them so much he couldn't bare to look at them. _He wanted Agathe.._

"ENOUGH!"

Maria was finally shocked into silence as she looked upon his broken face, his eyes blazing with anguish, his features contorted in torment as his chest heaved. It was the very first time that she spotted real, raw emotion in his eyes but as quickly as she had seen it, it was replaced by the infamous scowl again. Almost instantly, he was firing her on the spot and as she recalled the pain that had just flitted so briefly across his features - all by _her_ doing - she realised she entirely deserved it.

Georg had had quite enough - the sooner number twelve returned to the abbey, the better. He would not be challenged in such a way in his own home by this mere slip of a girl and, as he demanded that she pack her bags, he watched her face finally fall in defeat. _Well good_ , he thought, life was full of disappointments and the sooner she learned that, the better.

"What's that?" He snapped as the sound of a distant melody, something familiar, reached his ears, piercing the angry tension emanating around the veranda.

"It's singing," she murmured sadly.

"Yes, I realise it's singing but _who_ is singing."

"The children," she breathed, fixing him with such a look of anguish that he felt his chest entirely constrict.

 _The children?_


	4. Chapter 4

She'd never noticed his dimples before. But then again she'd never seen him _smiling_ before. And now he never seemed to _stop_ smiling. Gone was the infamous scowl, replaced by a playfulness that reached all the way to his eyes and caused his cheeks to dent in such an adorably boyish way that she could see the resemblance to Kurt. Now she could do nothing _but_ notice. It seemed the Captain had a heart after all.

"Of course the children may put on a show for me Fraulein, though I can't promise I won't spy on all your rehearsals!" He said playfully, giving the children a wink and causing them to cheer happily at being granted permission. It was another beautiful day at 53 Aigen and he had joined them all on the grass for a game of cards, his jacket discarded next to him in a most uncharacteristic way and with Gretl sat in his lap as he helped her with her hand.

His newfound efforts with the children hadn't gone unnoticed by Maria either. He was going to great lengths to make sure he spent time with each of them, was patient with their silly foibles, and he took an interest in each of their needs - all the while sending the occasional nod of gratitude in Maria's direction to show that he had understood, that he had _heard_ her.

"I thought you normally had Frau Schmidt spy on the governesses for you Captain.." Maria teased, as his eyebrows shot up in surprise and an amused smile tugged at his lips again. Two weeks ago, such an insubordination on her part would have caused him to seethe with anger. Instead, the dimples made another appearance.

"Touché Fraulein," he laughed, "I should remember nothing gets past the likes of you. Except perhaps a rogue pine cone.."

With a mischievous grin at Maria's bewildered expression, he began whispering in Gretl's ear, encouraging her to reveal their winning hand to the group and he let out a hearty laugh when the little girl gave a roar of triumph at their victory. Maria had never seen anything so endearing.

Taking an amused satisfaction in his ability to tease the Fraulein, Georg thought back to what had occurred only fourteen days ago. _A truce._ He had left her sopping wet and defeated on the veranda to follow the sound of his children's voices, as if hypnotised by a power greater than himself. And what he'd seen when he reached the drawing room had taken his breath away.

His children - his beautiful, loving, caring, neglected children - were singing before his very eyes. And it had been overwhelming. Unwilling to break the spell he had watched from afar, peaking from the doorway and allowing the music to wash over him. As the familiar lyrics had reached his ears, a long forgotten memory had invaded his thoughts.

 _"Georg my darling, you must come and see!" Agathe was bent over the cot of their first born, a beautiful smile adorning her features. Stretching and leaving the bed to come and join her, he put his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin in the crook of her neck, taking in the sight of their beautiful Liesl who fidgeted and cooed in the cot happily._

 _"She was smiling Georg, her first real smile!" Agathe craned her neck to kiss him on the cheek, her lips leaving a warm and comforting mark._

 _"Well sing it again darling, see if she smiles again," he whispered._

 _"To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls over stones on its way..," her voice was nothing short of stunning and her lyrics broke with a small laugh when Leisl kicked her little legs happily and squealed, "to sing through the night, like a lark who is learning to pray..." a breathtaking smile graced Leisl's tiny features and Georg realised he'd never experienced a moment so perfect in his entire life._

The memory had stirred something powerful within him as he had stood unseen in the doorway, listening to his children and seeing his beloved Agathe in every single one of their sorrowful faces. He had felt a deep and sudden sense of shame then - shame that hit him square in the chest with vivid and startling clarity. _He had forgotten_. He had forgotten that particular memory, along with every other memory of the joy, the happiness, the laughter that had once radiated through their home. He had forgotten his Agathe and he had forgotten his children.

And before he knew it he had been clutching them all to his chest tightly, singing with them as Agathe would have wanted, as he silently begged for their forgiveness. A barrier around his heart had finally been broken and he had no one but number twelve to thank for it.

Humbled and grateful, he had apologised to her for his appalling behaviour, not just by the lake but ever since her arrival. He had realised suddenly, as he willed himself to look her in the eye, that Fraulein Maria was not the insolent, disobedient little girl he'd assumed her to be but a headstrong, caring and spirited young woman who asked nothing of him other than to love his children. _And by God did he love them_. This remarkable and unlikely person had helped him to remember and by doing so she had marked them as equals.

"Georg darling," Elsa's voice trilled from the veranda, breaking his reverie. He looked up from his position on the grass to see her beckoning him over, "care to try some pink lemonade?"

Smiling apologetically, he gently extricated Gretl from his lap and excused himself from the group, the look of exasperation on the children's faces not going unnoticed.

"Come now children, I can't neglect our guests all day, no matter how satisfying it is to win! Fraulein," he met her eyes again and Maria noted that the newfound warmth in them was still there. It made her stomach tighten slightly, "I trust I'll see you at 4pm as usual?"

She nodded. They had been meeting daily since his return to the villa to discuss the children's progress - at first she had dreaded the ritual, imagining an hour spent in his study being reprimanded for her failings as a governess. But she had quickly found that the stern and disagreeable Captain seemed to have vanished, having been replaced by a humbled and passionate man who took great interest not only in his children but in her own opinions, thoughts, achievements and anecdotes. Often the hour would turn into two, and talk of the children's progress would be long forgotten.

She watched him retreat towards the veranda, his jacket slung over his shoulder in such a relaxed and un-Captainly manner she found herself wondering if the shirt ever came off too. Shaking the startling image from her mind, she ignored the bizarre jolt deep in her belly and busied herself with shuffling the cards for another game.

* * *

Two more weeks had passed and a peaceful happiness had settled over the von Trapp villa. Georg had been dedicating his time to getting to know his children and he was more than aware of the fact he'd been neglecting Elsa and Max in the process. But he found himself growing increasingly more restless in their company, growing bored of their idle gossip and becoming easily distracted. He found himself wanting to seek out the company of his children, to seek out the company of their _governess_. He found himself wanting to discover more about her with each passing day. He found himself admiring her. _He found himself falling._

"And you'll _never_ guess who he ran away with Georg.." Elsa's eloquent voice broke through his thoughts.

"Hmm?" He replied absentmindedly. He was trying his best to listen but he'd suddenly spotted the Fraulein from his position on the veranda and he sat up a little straighter in his chair. His eyes followed her, as they so often did these days, and he watched as she hurried mischievously across the grass, unaware of their presence and glancing over her shoulder cautiously every now and again, as if being pursued. _What on earth is she up to this time?_ Georg chuckled aloud, forgetting himself for a moment in front of his company.

"Well I hardly think it's funny Georg darling!" Elsa reprimanded with a wicked gleam in her eye, hitting his arm lightly.

Georg hardly noticed, "Hmm? Sorry darling?"

"Laughing at the fact that poor Baroness Kruger's son ran away with the maid!" She flashed him a flirtatious grin but he wasn't looking, "How positively _wicked_ you are Georg!"

Max Detweiler had remained uncharacteristically quiet during this rather one-sided exchange and had been eyeing his friend like a hawk. Not once had Georg looked at Elsa, not once had he responded to her less than subtle attempts at flirtation, not once had he been truly present during their conversation. It seemed to be happening more and more these days and as he followed Georg's line of vision it became all too clear what had led to his friend's evident distraction. He watched Georg's expression soften and his body stiffen slightly as the lovely little governess flitted across the garden in front of them, her angelic face full of mischief and completely oblivious to her employer's brooding gaze. He wondered at what point Georg's respect for the girl had turned into admiration, attraction.. and whether he was even aware of it himself. The governess slipped out of sight behind the trees then, and Georg looked visibly agitated.

Elsa was still obliviously tittering away about the latest developments in Vienna and, just as Max was beginning to relax into the restored normalcy of the conversation, Georg placed his drink on the table and impulsively got to his feet.

"Do excuse me will you," He muttered absentmindedly and Max watched, perplexed, as his friend strode away towards the trees, Elsa's monologue interrupted by his swift and sudden exit.

* * *

 _Where the devil had she gone_ , Georg thought, as his legs seemed to carry him of their own accord in the direction he'd seen Maria going. Just as he was about to give up his ludicrous search, he spotted a delicate ankle hanging from one of the trees before it flashed out of sight, disappearing amongst the thick leaves.

He felt his loins burn slightly at the sight of her milky skin and he chastised himself for being so affected by an ankle of all things. It was _ridiculous_. He'd been with plenty of women in his youth and yet here he stood, breathless at the sight of her. _When had his minor attraction to her developed into forbidden lust?_

Maria nearly fell from her branch in alarm when she heard someone knocking on the trunk below her and she looked down to find a devilish Captain smirking up at her, his jaw cocked to one side in amusement.

"Just what on earth do you think you're doing Fraulein?"

 _Oh God, the dimples were back._

Acting on false courage, she found her voice and waved her hands to silence him, "Shhh Captain!" she hissed, "you're going to expose me!"

Georg looked at her, perplexed, trying hard to ignore the shapely legs that his position beneath her allowed him to see. _Expose her? If only..._

"Um.. I'm afraid I don't follow.."

"I'm involved in a very intricate game of Hide and Seek, Captain," she whispered urgently, "and you're going to give me away!"

"Ah, of course," he replied, "well we can't possibly have that, can we."

Maria watched, utterly baffled as the Captain jumped for the nearest branch and used the trunk for leverage, hoisting himself into the tree and balancing with ease. He took a seat next to her, his long legs dangling playfully beneath him.

"What?" He asked defensively at her dumbfounded expression.

"I... You.. I.., You'll ruin your suit," was her ridiculous reply. Somehow she couldn't quite verbalise that it was his youthful and carefree nature combined with the roguish masculinity of his climb that had thrown her. So irresistibly unlike the stoic authoritarian...

He chuckled, loosening his tie and she jerked her eyes away from his throat, feeling a flush creep up her cheeks at the sight of the light curls that escaped his collar. What on earth was it about the change in this man that suddenly caused her to feel hot all over - a sensation completely new and perplexing but addictive all at once.

"Do you like it?" He asked quietly.

"Wh.. What?" _Was he talking about his chest hair?!_

"The suit.." He asked, "it was Agathe's favourite - I haven't worn it in years but I used to love it..."

"Oh.. It's lovely," she smiled, letting out the breath she'd been holding as she relaxed slightly. It was true she'd never seen him in this particular suit before - it was a dark navy colour, slim cut across his masculine figure and it brought out his eyes. Those deep blue eyes that always seemed to act as a window to his soul, no matter how reserved he appeared on the outside. Those eyes that always seemed to be studying her intensely, as they were now, making her pulse quicken. Those eyes that once filled her with dread but now filled her with a confusing warmth. _Yes_ , she thought _, it was rapidly becoming her favourite suit too._

"So, who are we hiding from?" He whispered wickedly, nudging her arm and grinning again.

"Err... " _think Maria, think_ , "Friedrich! Friedrich is _it_."

"Oh ho, well we'll be here a while then," he laughed, "the boy was never good at navigating, despite being the son of a sailor!"

Just as the Captain predicted, time seemed to escape them as they talked of everything and nothing - his navy days, Maria's time at the abbey, each of the children's births, how the Captain had met Max, books, art, music, authors.. even the threat of the impending Anschluss - and Maria found herself incredibly at ease. She found herself laughing at his anecdotes, becoming tearful at his stories of Agathe, and she listened gravely to his worries about their homeland.

"I don't know what I'll do if we lose this country to the Nazis," he sighed bitterly as Maria nodded sombrely, "It's where I've served my Emperor, where I've brought up my seven children, where I met my wife..."

The gravity of his words echoed around the silence as they each reflected on what would become of their home. With so much turmoil in the world, it was almost a relief to sit hidden amongst the leaves and bask in life's simpler pleasures.

"She would be very _proud_ , Fraulein," he whispered, his eyes lost in thoughts of the past, "the children...the music... I... I thank you. I'm a better man because of it. Because of _you_."

Her breath caught in her throat at his admission and when she saw his fingers twitch in that endearing way that they did whenever he was agitated, she thought he was about to take her hand. Instead, he met her gaze, smiling gratefully and she was deeply moved by his humility - this heroic and complex individual who had faced great danger in his lifetime, had been decorated by the Emperor for his bravery, and yet had become utterly broken when he lost the love of his life. A stray lock of hair fell forward from his head then and she felt utterly lost, resisting the urge to brush it back in a gesture of comfort, her hand tingling in anticipation.

As if he somehow knew the route her thoughts had taken, his eyes suddenly darkened and bore into hers with a new intensity. The air around them began to pulsate with a dangerous charge and it made her entirely weak at the knees, her heart threatening to burst from her ribs. She knew she should say _something_ but she was utterly transfixed, sat so close to him that they were sharing a heated breath. He leaned closer still and she could smell his cologne mixed with the scent of _just him_ , making her head reel. _What was he doing to her?_

"Found you!" Friedrich suddenly burst into view below them in such a violent manner that the Captain jolted in alarm, toppling backwards off the branch and landing on the grass with a heavy thud.

 _"Captain!"_

 _"Father!"_

"Friedrich!" Georg groaned, the impact having knocked the wind out of him. Amidst the mayhem, he felt Maria land on her own two feet on the ground next to him, kneeling beside him with one hand absentmindedly placed on his chest in concern.

"Are you alright?" She breathed as he pulled himself to his feet, her hand seeming to have scorched his skin through his shirt where she had touched him.

"Yes yes I'm fine," he waved his hand in dismissal, smoothing out his suit and clapping Friedrich on the back to appease him, "don't look so frightened boy, your old man isn't so old he can't handle falling out of a tree from time to time."

"I'm so sorry father, I didn't realise you were playing the game too."

Georg had no idea _what_ kind of game he was trying to play but as he watched Maria's delectable figure walking back towards the house with Friedrich - his mind wandering back to how he'd almost kissed her - he knew it was a dangerous one.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This is a slightly longer chapter - I thought about dividing it into two seperate chapters but I wanted to set the scene. I've also taken a few lines from one of my other stories as it fitted rather nicely. I hope you enjoy the most recent development and I'll update soon! I love reviews, hint hint :D**

Another week had passed since the embarrassing hide and seek incident and Georg was now certain that his fall from the tree must have knocked a screw loose in his head. He was most definitely in deep trouble. Sitting behind his desk with his elbows resting on the rich mahogany and his fingertips touched together, he pondered his predicament with a troubled frown knitting his brow - the papers strewn across the table completely forgotten.

The peace that had befallen the villa since his return from Vienna was still very much there - every day they were blessed with gorgeous sunshine, something he would relish when spending hours outdoors with his children, who he was growing closer to with each passing minute. No longer did he feel suffocated by grief in his own home - on the contrary - to his bewilderment, he found himself delighting in the memories he once hid from. Even news of the Anschluss seemed to have quietened somewhat - or perhaps he was simply reading the news a little less, distracted by _far lovelier_ things..

Yes, his life was very much something to be grateful for. But his overall contentment, his new found zest for the simpler pleasures, his feelings of deep tranquility - none of these sentiments truly extended to his heart. Because Georg Von Trapp was _troubled_. Troubled by blue eyes, golden hair, milky skin, pale chiffon...

He wasn't sure at which point in the last few weeks his attraction to Maria had development into feelings. Feelings that gripped him at the most unexpected times with such a vivid intensity that he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. All it seemed to take was a shared look, an accidental stolen touch, a warm smile - and he felt the fire roar to life deep within.

He suspected the very first time the longing had gripped him out of the blue was after the puppet show, when he'd praised her efforts with the children. She'd looked so inviting in that material that clung so irresistibly to her figure and her breezy smile, once so abhorrent to him, had suddenly rendered him entirely speechless. He realised in those moments, as he fought for breath, that not only did he lust after her, but he found her _beautifully, utterly_ remarkable. The effect had so surprised him that he had done nothing but bow awkwardly and distance himself quickly, preventing himself from acting on the sudden urge to brush his fingers against her beautiful cheek.

Lust was one thing, lust he could handle. But _this_? This was entirely too dangerous. And he knew he was struggling to conceal it. He knew that any suspicions Elsa and Max may have had about his infatuation with the governess had been entirely confirmed when they'd caught the intensity of his glances during his performance of Edelweiss. He had been completely unable to take his eyes off her and when she had met his gaze with her wide-eyed innocence, she had unknowingly allowed him to see her whole heart. In those moments, it had felt as though the rest of the world was disappearing and he was singing only to her - an overwhelming connection seeming to form between them that spoke of their bond, their adoration, their unity. The fact that they _belonged_ to each other.

Or perhaps he had imagined the whole thing, he thought bitterly as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Yes, concealing it was becoming exhausting. Not just because he wanted to touch her, not just because he wanted to break down the walls of formality between them, not just because he ached for her affections - but because he was almost _certain_ he'd seen the same longing in her own eyes. Unlike Elsa, his Maria wore her heart on her sleeve for him to see, even if she was unaware of it. She seemed to be blushing more often in his company these days, smiling more when he walked into a room, acting as his equal as they laughed and talked and teased one another in the rare moments they were alone. By far the hardest part was knowing that his feelings might well be reciprocated but there was nothing he could do about it. She was dedicating her life to God.

A knock at the door startled him from his reverie and he struggled to mask his disappointment when he discovered it was Elsa asking permission for entry.

"Oh..Elsa, it's you.."

" _Well please_ Georg darling, don't be too happy to see me!" Elsa simpered coolly, taking a seat on the sofa and crossing one long leg over the other.

"I'm sorry, that was terribly rude of me, I've just been entirely distracted by these damned papers," Georg gestured to the mass of documents on his desk that had sat untouched for the best part of an hour as he'd brooded over his situation.

"Well perhaps I can take your mind off it with far more _alluring_ activities darling," Elsa cooed, firing him a suggestive look through thick, flirtatious lashes. If there was one thing Elsa knew, it was how to get what she wanted and her Captain had been entirely too _distracted_ for her liking recently - though it wasn't U-boat documents that had her rattled...

Georg threw her a weak smile and an awkward silence hung between them as he continued to brood. Clearly seduction wasn't the best tactic, Elsa thought. Time for another approach.

"My reason for the interruption darling, was to ask your approval for several of the party plans I had in mind," Elsa trilled, willing herself to remain unperturbed by his less than enthusiastic response to her presence.

"Hmm.." He muttered, regretting having ever agreed to this infernal party in the first place. He had never been one for lavish events, but his children had wanted it... _Their governess had wanted it_.. And so he had acquiesced.

He heard himself umming and ah-ing, yes-ing and nodding in all the correct places as Elsa ran through the seemingly endless list of superfluous and unnecessary additions to the party planning. It was all utterly ridiculous, the endless tirade of extravagance she was insisting upon, only to presumptuously demonstrate the lavishness of their soon-to-be combined wealth. He found himself becoming bored with the conversation and his mind had begun to wander to far more enticing images of blue eyes and golden hair... It was only when he heard Herr Zeller's name mentioned that his head snapped to attention.

"You invited Zeller?" He probed, fixing her with a sharp look.

"Well yes darling of course, and a few of his.. You know.. His _circle_ ," Elsa breezed, patting her perfectly coiffed hair, "it's important to try and _get along_ with everyone in these times."

Taking a deep breath to distill his annoyance, Georg got to his feet. He really couldn't have this conversation, not now. Not when he was in such a dangerous mood.

"Excuse me Elsa but I think I need to go and get some air - I'm feeling a little _light headed_."

He needed to get away from her, to get away from thoughts of the party, thoughts of the Nazis soon to enter his home, thoughts of the Anschluss, thoughts of his expected betrothal. He could feel it all suffocating him as he left a bewildered Elsa pouting in his study.

Still wrapped up in his own frustration as he reflected on her words, he paid no attention to where his feet were carrying him - he concentrated only on putting as much distance between himself and Elsa as possible. It was only when he heard an angelic voice humming a soft tune that he looked up and realised he'd stumbled across the very same tree he'd fallen from a few weeks ago. And there, on the very same branch as they'd shared before, was Maria.

She had already spotted him from her position in the tree and was peering down at him with that unflappable smile that made his previous frustrations ebb away without a second thought.

" _Hallo_!" She breathed, causing a smile to tug at his lips, "I thought for a moment you were about to walk straight into the tree trunk!"

He chuckled, "Well I'm deeply disturbed by your failure to warn me, Fraulein! I do hope your presence here isn't due to another intense game of Hide and Seek?"

She laughed more heartily then and it was music to his ears. He grinned like a child at having made her laugh like that.

"No Captain, the children are with Herr Detweiller showing him the puppets - he said I could have half an hour to myself."

Mention of the puppets caused Georg's mouth to go dry as he thought of how she had looked at him so uninhibitedly that day, when he'd found it so difficult to conceal his feelings. He quickly composed himself, weary of her eyes on him as she looked down from her perched position.

He leaned casually against the trunk of the tree and craned his neck to meet her gaze, "and you like to spend your leisure time up in trees?"

"Occasionally," she grinned, "I find it soothing.. You know.. Peaceful. I like to come up here and think, listen to the birds and the breeze and watch the sky change colour as the sun sets.."

"Well as delightful as that sounds, I can't see or hear any of it from down here.." He pouted in mock offence, making as if to jump for the nearest branch again.

"Captain for _Goodness sake_ , you'll hurt yourself again!"

Maria rolled her eyes as her warnings went unheeded. She watched his rather clumsy ascent, recalling all too easily how he'd fallen the last time he'd attempted to climb this very tree. She couldn't help but giggle at the memory, the way he'd landed, so _undignified_ , on his backside - his hair a mess, his face red from embarrassment and his delightful suit crumpled all over. Her giggle was cut short when the image caused her stomach to jolt - he'd looked so deliciously disheveled that day and she realised with alarm that he looked very similar now after attempting the climb a second time.

He plonked himself down beside her and settled comfortably, completely oblivious to her train of thought.

"So," he breathed.

"So.."

"What did you come up here to think about?" He asked innocently, "If you don't mind me asking, of course."

"Well what did _you_ come out here to think about?" She retorted.

"How did you know I even _had_ anything to think about?" He challenged defensively.

"Your fingers.."

"I _beg_ your pardon?" He spluttered - _what had he done to her with his fingers?!_

"Your fingers," she repeated, "they were twitching. The fingers on your left hand always twitch when you're agitated."

His expression softened and a coy smile tugged at his lips, "You could give Briggita a run for her money with observations like that.."

She blushed deeply then - a blush that crept down her neck and under the lining of her dress where he willed himself not to stare.

"Forgive me..I didn't mean to pry.." She muttered.

"Not at all Fraulein.. To tell you the truth I came out here to think about the future.." He replied pensively, knitting his fingers together self-consciously to stop them from twitching in front of her.

"So did I.." She murmured, lost in her own thoughts.

"You did?"

"Yes.." She sighed, wistfully, "I was thinking about how the Reverend Mother sent me here to learn what is expected of me and whether I can expect if of myself, but sometimes I feel as though God is no longer watching me.. That he has somehow forgotten me.. Forgotten to show me the way..."

She looked at him then with such turmoil in her eyes that he felt an urgent desire to take her in his arms and show her all the ways they could take comfort in one another. He understood more than anyone what it felt like to be lost, to suspect that God had abandoned you, to feel as though there was nobody to guide you.

"Well what is it they say Fraulein.." He murmured, his eyes boring into her anguished ones, " _God works in mysterious ways_.."

Maria felt her breath catch at the way he was staring at her so unashamedly, as if willing her to understand that as long as he was here, she would never be lost - she would never be alone. How could he make her feel so alive, so safe with only a look?

A long, reflective silence hung between them then - their eyes locked with a mixture of turmoil, heat and longing - until Georg eventually broke the spell.

"You're right," he murmured, forcing his eyes away from hers, "that's quite a sunset.."

They both gazed out through the cocoon of the leaves around them, drinking in the stunning view of the lake glittering with the reflection of the setting sun - the water so serene that the hills bounced off its surface as though it were a mirror. Without thinking, he placed his hand over hers on the branch beside him, neither one of them pulling away from the unexpected warmth. With nothing but the gentle rustling of the leaves to disturb the comfortable silence between two lost souls, Georg realised he felt entirely at peace, even in a world that was disappearing.

* * *

The party was in full swing and Georg already had a headache from being pulled in every direction by various vultures disguised as aristocratic women. As delightful as they all were, he was tiring of them particularly fast and he was in a rather dangerous mood following his confrontation with Zeller and his obvious denigration of the Austrian flag.

Willing himself to tear away from his duties as host and get some much needed air, he made his way out onto the terrace. What he saw there affected him deeply.

Illuminated by the glow of the terrace's moonlight and causing his chest to entirely constrict, was his governess, teaching his youngest boy to dance. He watched, transfixed by the endearing sight as they step-hopped and up-and-undered awkwardly, and a deliciously inappropriate idea came to mind.

Almost of their own accord, his feet guided him out onto the terrace. Like so many other times in the last few weeks, he found himself hopelessly drawn to her.

"Do allow me will you?" His baritone voice and piercing gaze broke the dancing pair apart.

Maria willed herself to close her gaping mouth as the intensity of his stare caused the words to stick in her throat. Wordlessly, she took his outstretched hand, his gaze sending shivers down her spine that she attempted to ignore. She felt her mouth go slightly dry at the sight of him in his coat tails and medals but she willed herself to meet his stare as she placed her dainty hand in his larger one.

As he pulled her closer, he found himself inhaling her scent and his pulse quickened at her sudden proximity. He found himself inwardly cursing the beginnings of the dance that required her to stay at arms length - his body ached to pull her closer, longed to feel her pressed against him, to feel the very heat of her.

She twirled effortlessly, her skirts billowing around her and he felt as though he'd never again have the chance to gaze at something so beautiful. The beams from the moon cast down on them, illuminating her lithe frame as she moved gracefully to the music, highlighting the alluring curve of her neck, her jawline, her cheekbones. It was a relief to finally drink in the sight of her without the fear of being caught.

He reluctantly tore his eyes from her frame as his cue came to dance around her, clapping to the rhythm and trying desperately to remember his footing.

Maria was suddenly confronted by a familiar fluttering in her stomach as the dance called for her to reach out for the Captain's shoulder. It was such a simple movement and yet the intimacy of it knocked the wind out of her. She suddenly realised she would follow this man anywhere.

When he twirled her round to face him, she was met with his darkened eyes and his jaw set heavily in unspoken frustration.

Georg prayed she hadn't noticed how his teeth were clenched as he fought for control. The warmth of her fingers in his hand felt as though it was searing his skin, leading to thoughts of what they might feel like elsewhere. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her closer possessively by the waist and entwined their fingers above their heads.

The swell of her curves almost undid him as her skirts brushed against his trousers and their hips fused, forcing him to bite back a moan of longing as the warmth of her spread throughout his entire lower body.

He gripped her to him with an insatiable need as they twirled, the heat of their bodies radiating palpably between them. Her wide eyed expression met his penetrating one and they shared a breath as he pulled her closer still, until there was no mistaking the beating of her heart against his own ribs.

Their lips only inches apart, his head was reeling and time seemed to stand still as their eyes bore into each other with a fierce intensity. The dance long forgotten, they stood clinging to each other as if frozen to the spot and he wondered whether his eyes portrayed the overwhelming need that was consuming him. His breath caught as her face betrayed her own inner turmoil and he realised, with a surge of elation, that she felt it too.

And then before he could protest, before he could say what he so longed to tell her, she was slipping away from him, pulling away from his embrace, her face portraying the confusion she felt as she reddened deeply. Reality set in then and he was reminded of the alarming proximity of his children as Briggita stepped towards them.

The next few minutes passed in a blur as Elsa eventually made an appearance and whisked him away into the ball room, his head spinning and his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what he'd seen in Maria's eyes.

He hardly dared to believe it - _had he seen love?_

* * *

He'd barely touched his food throughout the entire meal and though he had been surrounded by almost one hundred guests, he had felt entirely alone. Max had invited Maria to be his dinner guest but she had failed to make an appearance and he was beginning to worry. At first, he assumed she was running late, as she so often was, but now that the majority of guests were taking their leave and the night was coming to an end, he realised something was terribly wrong.

Only a few guests remained for cigars and drinks in the drawing room, and so he excused himself quietly, ignoring the contemptuous look on Elsa's face as he slipped from the room and made his way up the stairs towards Maria's bedroom. He knew it was inappropriate but he couldn't help himself, he needed to find her and make sure she was okay. Discovering that her room was empty, he really began to panic. _Where on earth would she have gone?_

 _Of course_ , he thought suddenly, _the tree_!

Minutes later he had found her, sat on the branch they had so often shared, hiding from the world around them.

"I thought I just might find you here," he murmured, making out her anguished features in the moonlight. How beautiful she looked illuminated in the semi darkness.

"I.. I couldn't..I didn't.." She felt as though a rope was being tied around her lungs as he looked up at her, the sadness in his eyes stilling her heart. How could she even begin to explain to this man the feelings that he evoked within her? How could she look him in the eye and tell him that what troubled her was this intense, unspoken, exquisite bond they had formed?

" _Maria_.." He whispered, her name on his lips for the first time knocking her breathless. She said nothing, she couldn't utter a word even if she'd wanted to.

"Maria, please.."

"What do you want, Captain?" Her voice shook, barely above a whisper as she attempted to hold back the tears of frustration that threatened to fall. She couldn't face him, she couldn't bare it.

" _You_ ," he breathed, his heart hammering, the simple word tumbling uninhibitedly from his lips before he could stop it, "just you. Only you. _Always you_ , my darling."

He felt, rather than heard, her sharp in take of breath. _There. She knew. Finally she knew._

" _Don't_ Georg.." She whispered, her voice breaking, "you can't.."

"Can't what?" He pushed, frustrated by the situation they found themselves in, "can't want you? Can't _love_ you? Can't feel something _real_ for the first time in years?"

Silent tears fell as she watched him from her place of safety on the branch, away from his strong, welcoming arms that she longed to have wrapped around her.

"You know that I _can_ , and you know that I _do_. And better yet Maria, I know that _you_ do too!"

He reached up, extending his hand toward her in the hope that she would take it and join him on solid ground. He needed to reassure her, to tell her how much he needed her.

What happened next would haunt Maria for years to come. Just as she mustered the courage to reach down and grasp his protective hand, his delicate touch was suddenly ripped away from her when four suited men appeared as if from nowhere and dragged him violently to the ground.

The scene before her seemed to happen in slow motion as she watched Georg flail, head butting one offender on his way to the ground and managing to swing a punch before he was pinned helplessly to the grass. She heard desperate screaming, only to realise the strangled sound was being torn from her own lungs as she watched Zeller and his men stamp on Georg's chest before showering his face with punch after punch after punch.

She felt her body throw itself from the tree as if it had a mind of its own and before she knew it she was clawing at Zeller's face in desperation, screaming for Georg's release, only to be dragged away and restrained by brutal arms. She sobbed in horror and watched helplessly as she heard the sickening crack of sinew and bone, heard the strangled gargle as Georg choked on his own blood,saw the red streaks caking Zeller's fist as he straddled his victim's flailing body. He continued to slam into Georg's face until the groans of pain eventually ceased, until there was no sound other than the dull thud of Zeller's tired fist against bloodied flesh, until Georg's body lay still.

Zeller ceased his brutality and sat up against his victim, his suit ripped and spattered with blood, chest heaving from the strain of his attack. His blackened eyes turned and faced Maria, a vicious smirk cracking his features, "let this be a lesson to those who speak too freely of their opposition to the Third Reich."

 **A/N: I could hardly bare to write the last part - our poor, beautiful Captain's perfect face! Updates soon.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm sorry to have left you all on such a cliffhanger! It's been a bit manic over here in the UK with the EU referendum as you can imagine! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next installment :)** _  
_

_Blood._ It was all Maria could see.

It soaked his beautiful white waistcoat, it seeped into the ridges of his war medals, it caked his mangled features where flesh and bone had once formed a handsome face, it stained her own shaking hands where she frantically stroked his matted hair from his forehead.

He lay still, unconscious, unrecognisable, barely breathing. _But alive_.

Zeller and his violent thugs had disappeared into the night, leaving behind a life hanging by a thread. And Maria had flung herself like a rag doll to Georg's side, frantically praying that he would wake, that he would open his blackened eyes and look at her.

He didn't.

And that's when she heard her sobs of despair turn into shouts of desperation, her own voice sounding foreign to her as she pleaded for someone - _anyone_ \- to come to their aid. She couldn't see straight, she couldn't think, she couldn't breathe - everywhere around her was the stench of blood and sweat and earth, the crimson stains seeming to seep into her very soul.

Amidst the chaos, she was vaguely aware of warm hands suddenly gripping her upper arms, trying to gently pull her away - but she screamed louder, clinging to Georg's limp body.

"Fraulein.." A soothing voice she recognised, "Maria, please.. You must come.."

Max had been enjoying a cigar with several other gentlemen who had remained after the majority of the guests had left. Their light conversation had slowly ebbed away as they'd heard desperate cries in the distance and they'd hurriedly followed the disturbing sound, their brandies left abandoned.

What he and his companions had seen when he reached the veranda made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. A helpless, hysterical Fraulein Maria was clutching desperately to a dark, lifeless form under a nearby tree. He knew instantly that it was Georg, though his distorted features meant that the only means of identifying him was his coat tails and medals.

Max had broken into a sprint then, followed by his companions, save for one or two who remained behind to ensure the ladies still in attendance wouldn't witness the disturbing scene.

His heart pounding, he wrapped his arms around the Fraulein and gently pulled her to her feet, letting her collapse against his body in defeat as the other men surrounded his best friend's broken body.

"Fraulein! _My God in heaven_ what happened?!" He shook her in his anguish when she didn't answer, " _Maria_!"

But she did nothing but sob, hard wracking sobs into Max's shoulder that chilled him to his very core. He needed to discover what had happened but not now. Not like this. He would calm her. He would help her. And he would talk to her. Most of all he would go out of his way to ensure that Elsa, who had retired a short while ago, would remain oblivious to Georg's critical condition until morning.

* * *

Maria sipped on the cup of tea that Max had handed her, her eyes bloodshot and her face pale as she gripped the mug closer, allowing the hot liquid to sooth her insides and warm her numb hands. They sat in Georg's study, the head of the house having been carried to his suite by loyal friends while a doctor had been called by a worry-stricken Frau Schmidt.

Max took a long swig from his tumbler, attempting to calm his shattered nerves. With the help of the other gentlemen, he had managed to defuse the situation relatively quickly and discreetly, encouraging the last of the oblivious guests to finally take their leave. Now that the villa was empty, an unsettling silence hung in the air like a sickness, when only a few hours ago it was filled with music and dancing and laughter.

 _How could anyone be so filled with unrelenting evil as to take pleasure in nearly beating the life from another with their bare hands?_ It perplexed Maria, who'd always tried to see the good in everyone. But the memory of Zeller's satisfied sneer as he's split Georg's face haunted her, as though the image was etched onto her eyelids forever.

"There were four of them?" Max asked gravely and Maria nodded, wanting to answer as many of his questions as she could.

"Zeller and three others?"

Another nod.

"And they just attacked him out of nowhere? Unprovoked? Unforeseen?"

Another nod.

 _"Bastards_ ," he muttered under his breath before apologising for the curse word.

"How could they?" She whispered, barely audibly.

"Unfortunately these men believe themselves to be untouchable," Max replied softly, "Georg has always been rather vocal about his thoughts on the Nazis - what better way to spread fear and submission amongst Austrians than beating a man in his own home?"

Another silence hung between them before he suddenly asked, "What was Georg doing outside in the first place?"

Maria's breath caught in her throat at the memory of their earlier encounter - was it really only mere hours ago that she'd blushed in his arms and he'd followed her to the tree to confess that he wanted only her? She wondered what would have happened had they not been so savagely interrupted. She had felt hot all over at his touch in those moments, allowing her heart to pound against her ribs as she anticipated that he might take her in his arms and kiss her. She had imagined a heated clash of warm, wet mouths, a desperate entwinement of arms, a declaration of love after weeks of suppressed longing. But it had been viciously robbed from them.

She was pulled from her reverie suddenly by Max clearing his throat and eyeing her suspiciously, but still she said nothing.

"In fact, what were _you_ doing outside Fraulein?" He pressed.

"We.. I... We.."

"Yes?"

"I just... needed some air," she breathed, unable to meet Max's knowing gaze. He tugged at his moustache absentmindedly as he began to pace the length of the study, a deep frown etching his features. Something didn't add up.

He had been watching silently over the last few months as his friend had transformed before his very eyes. Just when Georg had seemed to reach the depths of grief that no man could ever come back from, the friend that Max had once known was suddenly returning to them. The Georg that laughed, joked, fought for his believes and sought the next adventure all in a day's work. Only, this Georg had a _new_ side to him that Max had never been privy to before - the gentler side, the doting father, the romantic musician, _the playful employer_..

As he eyed the nervous Fraulein, Max began to recollect all the stolen glances, the lustful stares, the hidden touches, the knowing smiles between his friend and the governess that he'd been witness to over the last few weeks, and he realised that it wasn't merely a passing attraction as he had first suspected. The way Georg had changed as though only for her.. the way Maria had clung to him in despair as he lay beaten on the ground.. it suddenly became startling clear to Max.

 _They were in love._

Did they even know it? He wondered, as he watched the Fraulein's face betray her inner turmoil. To an outsider, it would seem as though she were merely rattled by the terrifying experience, but Max knew better. This was the face of a woman who had been forced to watch the man she loved get beaten to within an inch of his life. He remembered with vivid clarity how she had clung to Georg's body, consumed with wracking sobs of grief. The memory sent a chilling shiver down his spine.

"You care deeply for each other, don't you," He whispered sympathetically, watching as the young Fraulein's brow knitted in anguish and her panic-stricken eyes met his for the first time that evening.

Her chest heaved and she opened her mouth as if to speak but a knock on the door silenced her.

"Herr Detweiler, Fraulein Maria," it was Frau Schmidt, a welcome intrusion as far as Maria was concerned. The elder lady often exuded an air of motherly care that calmed Maria's torn nerves - something she needed moreso now than ever before, "the doctor and paramedics are here to see the Captain."

* * *

"Broken nose, broken jaw, fractured cheekbone, some nasty swelling, there will be some unpleasant bruising..."

Maria barely heard a word the doctor was saying. It was the early hours of the morning and she was utterly exhausted, but she knew sleep would never claim her even if she tried. To her surprise, Max had insisted she come with him and Frau Schmidt to the Captain's suite to listen to the doctor's verdict. But now, gazing upon Georg's face, blackened and bandaged and oh so vulnerable, she didn't know if she had the strength to hear it.

"My paramedics have cleaned him up well and the cuts, bruises, broken bones - these will all heal in time," the doctor continued, "however.. Though he is stable, he's suffered some head trauma and until he wakes it will be impossible to determine what the impact of this may be."

"When is he likely to wake?" Max murmured, his voice so quiet, so grave, so unlike the playful Herr Detweiler Maria was used to. It unnerved her terribly.

"Again it's impossible to tell but I would've thought in a few days time," the doctor replied, "he will need constant care in the meantime so perhaps it's best he is hospitalised.."

" _No_ ," Maria and Frau Schmidt both spoke at once, their voices quiet but firm.

"No, we will ensure he is cared for day and night Doctor Schultz," Frau Schmidt insisted. She had served the family for almost twenty years and Maria was deeply touched by her loyalty and obvious motherly affection towards her employer. She was deeply grateful to the older woman for speaking out - the Captain would recover at home, surrounded by the love and support of his family.

"Very well," Doctor Shultz replied, "his wounds will need cleaning daily, his nightclothes will need changing on a regular basis. Monitor his state and alert me immediately if anything is amiss. And speak to him, it may rouse him from unconsciousness sooner. If five days passes and he shows no progress, he simply must be hospitalised."

"Thank you doctor," Max shook his hand as the four of them made their way towards the door, "I'll watch over him tonight, and after that the ladies and I will take shifts."

Allowing herself one last backward glance at Georg, Maria prayed that soon enough those deep blue eyes would open and still her beating heart once again.

* * *

Three days had passed and the Captain was still comatose, the only indication that he was still alive being the slight rise and fall of his chest. The news had been broken to the children and the Baroness by a compassionate Max the morning after the attack and it was obvious to see they were deeply disturbed. The children had cried tears of fear for their father and begged to see him, though their request had been denied given Georg's current state. The Baroness, on the other hand, had remained silent, composing herself with all the grace that her upbringing had taught her, before calmly offering to do her part in restoring him to full health.

Maria had been responsible for watching over the Captain on the second night, after the children had been put to bed, and she had been relieved to finally be alone with him. It had been so hard to suppress her sorrow in front of the children and the Baroness. It had been even harder to refrain from showing any physical affection towards Georg. And when she had finally been given some privacy with him, she had allowed herself to let go. She had soothed him lovingly with gentle strokes through his thick hair, she had littered his forehead with light kisses, she had held his strong hand and whispered words of adoration against his cheek after cleaning his wounds.

And now that it was her turn again to take watch, she felt a surge of relief that she would be able to express her sorrow and show affection for the man she loved, without the fear of being caught.

Her heart in her mouth with anticipation, she approached his bedroom and was met by the sound of the Baroness's voice on the other side of the door, talking to the unconscious captain as instructed by the doctor.

"Honestly Georg, what were you thinking voicing your thoughts so openly," she chastised her oblivious listener, "the important thing these days is to get on with everybody as I said, you need to at least _pretend_ to agree with these people..."

Not wanting to eavesdrop, Maria interrupted the Baroness's monologue by knocking lightly on the door before entering.

"Oh, hello dear.." The Baroness greeted her coolly from the armchair in the corner of the room, where she had been flicking through a magazine, one slender leg crossed over the other, "nothing's changed, he hasn't moved a muscle since my watch began."

Maria shifted further into the room uncomfortably, very aware of the Baroness's eyes on her as she dared to glance at the Captain.

"Max already re-dressed his wounds this morning and I changed his nightclothes," she stated almost smugly, "all you have to do keep an eye on him."

She rose from her chair and passed Maria, giving her a sickly sweet smile, "can you manage that my dear?"

 _Did she suspect anything?_ Maria worried, her heart suddenly pounding. How could she possibly know? How could she possibly know that when she was alone with Georg, Maria held his hand and kissed his wounds and soothed him? How could she possibly know how much Maria longed for him? How could she possibly suspect that Georg had confessed his feelings to her?

Maria nodded slowly, desperate to be free from the Baroness's scrutiny.

"Good," the Baroness murmured, "because other than keeping watch, your _only_ duty to him is to keep his children in line...remember that."

And with that, she left them alone, the meaning of her words hanging palpably in the eerie silence of the room.

Letting out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding, Maria made her way to the chair the Baroness had just vacated, pulling it far closer to the bed before settling next to Georg. Unable to stop herself, she ran her featherlight touch across his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw - tracing and memorising every crevice, every scar, every defining mark of his face. She allowed her hand to drift down his arm, gripping his warm fingers between hers and bringing his hand to her lips.

" _Oh Georg_ , I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking as she looked upon his fragile face, "I tried to deny what we both felt.. I was scared.. Confused.. and now I'd do anything to be able to tell you that I want you too. I want you more than _anything_."

She let the silence fall around them again as she brought his hand to her lips for the second time, closing her eyes and holding his warm touch against her cheek, taking comfort in his proximity.

That's when she heard his voice pierce the silence and her heart turned over in her chest.

" _Fraulein?"_

Her head snapped to attention to find that Georg's eyes were very much open, piercing and bloodshot as they bore into her face. _He was awake._

"Oh _Georg_!" She went to throw her arms around him in elation but he shunted her away and pulled his hand from her grasp as though burned.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!" He barked, his steely gaze burning a hole in her.

She looked upon his face in confusion and realised with dismay that the infamous scowl she hadn't seen in months was back - etched into his bruised skin, his eyes were dark with contempt and anger, his body was rigid with disdain. He looked at her in disgust and she realised, to her horror, that this wasn't the man she knew...

" _Answer me Fraulein_!"

"Georg, I.."

"It's Captain Von Trapp to you!" he shouted, "what are you doing here! My suite is no place for servants!"

"Georg, you were viciously attacked.. You.."

 _"What are you doing here!"_

"Georg _please_.."

"Get out!" He bellowed, his eyes blackened in anger and confusion, "you forget yourself Fraulein, _get OUT_!"

Maria choked back the tears of despair as she fled from the room. Georg hadn't woken up as the man she knew.. the Georg who treasured his children, the Georg who greeted her with a knowing smile, the Georg who sang as though only to her.. This man was the bitter, angry widower she had met when she'd first arrived at the villa.

 _He had forgotten._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: thank you for all the reviews! There were a few very fair points that some people made about the last chapter so I'll just clear some misunderstandings up quickly!**

 **1\. The confrontation between Elsa and Maria that happens in the movie on the night of the party never takes place in my story.**

 **2\. I too believe that in the movie Maria didn't want to admit her love for the captain, even to herself, until she knew that God had given her His blessing. However, in my story I believe the extremity of the vicious beating and the fear of losing Georg led her to admit her feelings to herself, even without God's blessing.**

 **3\. Georg is a brave man who has dealt with his fair share of pain from his navy days, so I believe that when he wakes he is more confused and shocked by Maria's actions towards him than any pain he might initially be in. Admittedly a broken jaw would make it harder to talk but I had a friend who's jaw was broken and he was able to talk in a clenched teeth kind of way.**

 **I hope that clears some stuff up and I hope you like this next chapter :)**

* * *

"Short term memory loss," doctor Shultz confirmed gravely as he stepped outside of the Captain's suite, "I've informed him of what happened but he's confused and ill-tempered from the pain, he's unlikely to cooperate until the initial shock has subsided."

" _Dear God_ ," Max muttered under his breath, throwing a sideways glance at Elsa, Maria and Frau Schmidt who stood beside him in the hallway with equally solemn faces. He had again insisted that the Fraulein be present for the doctor's examination and had convinced Elsa, and himself, that it was for the sake of the children - so that they could be informed of their father's progress by the adult they held most dear. But deep down he knew better. He knew he'd insisted on the Fraulein's presence because he could see that she was eaten up with worry and grief herself.

"I know it seems like a grim outcome," doctor Shultz continued, "but we must be grateful that the damage wasn't far worse."

 _If only they knew,_ Maria thought, her lungs feeling as though they were made of lead - _if only they all knew just how much damage had really been done._

"What _does_ he remember?" The baroness asked matter-of-factly.

"The last thing he can recall is driving home from Vienna."

Maria's heart collapsed in her chest. _That long ago?_ Their heated confrontation by the lake, his healing relationship with his children, his joy over the puppet show, his beautiful rendition of Edelweiss, their stolen moments in the tree by the lake, the heat of the Laendler as they danced in each other's arms, his passionate confession as he'd gazed at her with such uninhibited longing.. All wiped from his memory? So many meaningful moments shared, so many wounds healed.. All for nothing. It took everything she had to stifle the sob that threatened to burst from her.

"The memories may return in time, they may not," the doctor informed them, "he is still healing and will need a lot of rest for some time yet, so he will still need care."

"That won't be a problem at all, sir," Frau Schmidt insisted, "we will continue to care for him as we have been until he has returned to full health."

Doctor Shultz nodded his agreement, "Ensure that you talk with him as I instructed before - allow him to try and put the pieces of the puzzle back together himself. It may help the memories to return but be patient, be understanding, and don't bombard him with information that might be too confusing or difficult to comprehend all at once. This is a slow process and we cannot overwhelm him."

* * *

Grunting in discomfort as Frau Schmidt rearranged his pillows, Georg felt the frustration and anger grip at him again. Being bedridden was suffocating and he was becoming increasingly more frustrated by his amnesia. Physical pain and open wounds he could handle - he'd faced more than enough injuries in his navy days - but his lack of control over his mind was beginning to take its toll. Max and Elsa had been trying their best to jog his memory but to no avail. He had always prided himself on his disciplinary precision, his military control and his ability to act rationally - all of which required a sharp mind - and the fact that he couldn't recall what had happened to him, or the weeks leading up to the supposed attack, was absolutely maddening. He was in a dark mood to say the least.

"The children have been requesting to see you Captain," Frau Schmidt busied herself with fixing the bed covers around him, "they've been pestering Fraulein Maria for the past two days since learning of your progress. Would you like for me to send for them?"

"How has the new governess been faring since she began her employment here?" Georg asked, ignoring her question, his speech somewhat muffled as a result of his healing jaw and heavy bandaging.

"Well she's hardly new now sir," Frau Schmidt chuckled, "she's been getting along famously with the children, they seem to have flourished under her care. They're minding her instructions, they're doing well in their studies.. And such beautiful voices.."

"I'm sorry?" Georg scowled, "voices?"

"Oh they sing so beautifully sir, one of the many things the Fraulein has taught them since her arrival."

Georg was speechless. His children sang? _Impossible_. He didn't allow them to sing. He had told the twelf governess exactly what was expected of her the day she arrived and singing had not been on his list of demands. The children were to thrive in their studies and march about the grounds, breathing deeply in the afternoons as requested. Nothing more, nothing less. He felt another surge of irritation at the young woman's insolence. He made a mental note to call her out on her extracurricular activities when he next saw her.

"The children sir?" Frau Schmidt repeated her question, interrupting his brooding.

"Yes yes yes, alright," he grunted, "send them in."

With a curt nod, Frau Schmidt excused herself to fetch the children and Georg fidgeted uncomfortably as he tried to recall what he knew of number twelve. She was a postulant from Nonnberg, she had arrived in a hideous dress and intruded in his ballroom, she had bated him at every turn, and she had pranced around her bedroom in that ridiculous nightgown the night before he left.. _That nightgown_.. That nightgown he _did_ remember. He remembered what it had looked like in his dream when he'd pulled the frustrating garment over her head and shoved her naked body up against his bookcase. He remembered what her full, warm breasts had felt like heaving against his shirt, her delicate fingers grappling with his belt buckle, the rush of intense arousal he'd felt upon waking. Again, his lack of control over his mind caused the anger to knot in his chest and he recalled how he'd woken only two days ago to the real Fraulein touching him, stroking him. It had shocked him so deeply that he hadn't given a thought to where he was or what he was doing there. _What on earth had possessed her to do such a thing?_ It had been beyond inappropriate, beyond impertinent and for some reason he couldn't shake it from his mind.

He was startled from his thoughts when the very woman he had been wondering about edged nervously into the room, uncharacteristically avoiding his gaze and ushering seven extraordinarily quiet children in behind her. _Where were the eight mutinous rebels he'd been faced with before leaving for Vienna?_

The children gazed at him uncertainly, the worry etched into their faces as they took note of his purpled skin where the bruising had made its mark, the heavy bandaging that held his healing bones. They were unsure how to approach him and it broke Maria's heart. She had gently warned them that their father was not himself, that he had taken a nasty knock to the head and should be treated with care. They'd insisted adorably that they would do all they could to help him.

"Father?" It was little Marta that spoke first, her voice cracking as she began to cry, overwhelmed by her father's vulnerable state.

"What _is_ the matter Marta?" The Captain sighed impatiently. What had they all expected? The world was a cruel place and shedding tears over the incident was a useless business. It was a hard lesson but one that his children needed to learn, "I'm perfectly _well_ , now stop crying."

The little girl sniffled and looked to Maria for comfort, saddened and confused by her father's abruptness.

"It's okay Marta darling... Children," Maria soothed, ushering them closer to the bed, avoiding the Captain's stare and hoping against hope that he would allow them to show their affections. She watched as he rigidly accepted a card from Gretl and a small cake from Kurt that the eight of them had baked for him the day before.

He seemed rather taken aback by the gesture, his disinterested eyes widening a little in surprise before the mask was resumed. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Thank you children." Placing the card and cake on the bedside cabinet, he awkwardly patted Gretl on the head by way of gratitude. Maria could see the little girl battling the urge to throw her arms around her father, confused and dismayed by his detachment. _Just show her a smile Georg, I beg you,_ she pleaded silently, _show them you're in there._

But he did nothing but scowl again as he looked upon their gloomy faces, "for goodness sake, why do you all stare at me that way? I'm not a dying man, I'm merely a little bruised."

The children said nothing and he looked to their governess for an explanation, rapidly losing his patience. Number twelve wouldn't meet his gaze either and it enraged him. He looked around at his audience again and noticed suddenly that the children weren't in their sailor suits.

"Where are your uniforms?" He barked, "and why aren't you standing in a straight line?"

He felt his anger rising as he took note of their relaxed demeanours - Friedrich stood with his hands in his pockets, Kurt had a smudge of dirt on his right cheek, Brigitta's hair was coming loose - _Had the governess allowed them to run completely wild over the last few weeks?_ It was deeply unsettling having no recollection of how his children had been fairing or which instructions they'd be following. Given his memory of number twelve's insubordination the day she arrived, he didn't hold out much hope for her disciplinary abilities.

 _"I said straight line_!"

The children jumped to attention and got into formation, their dismay quite evident.

"Captain, I really must protest.." Maria had wanted to avoid talking to him at all costs but she couldn't stand idly by and watch him push the children away. It would hurt them too deeply to have their father ripped out from under them for a second time.

"You'll do no such thing Fraulein," the Captain retorted, fixing her with an icy glare, "children, I suggest you go outside for your walk immediately."

The children fled from the room, their faces flushed with upset, relieved to be free from their father's scathing scrutiny. Weeks ago she would have fought him for his denigration towards his children, she would've raised her voice and spoken out of turn. But she didn't feel as though she had any fight left in her.

"Now Fraulein, I want a truthful answer from you," he snipped, and she nodded solemnly, words evading her as she remembered a similar scenario out by the lake when she had first called him out on his behaviour.

"Is it true or have I been entirely misinformed, that you have taught my children to sing?"

"It's true sir."

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you Fraulein."

 _How could he ask that of her? Didn't he know that it was entirely too painful to look at him? So painful that she could hardly bare it?_ He was mistaking her cowardice for insolence and she prayed her face didn't express her anguish as she forced herself to look in his direction. She was met by his deep blue eyes, those eyes that she remembered, those eyes that stilled her heart - only now they were soulless, lifeless, emotionless, angry.

"Singing is not permitted Fraulein and you will kindly remember that you are here only to mind my children, to ensure they are working hard, and nothing more."

"Yes sir," she replied defeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

"They are to wear their uniforms at all times and conduct themselves with the utmost orderliness and decorum, have I made myself clear?"

"Yes sir."

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, despite the sting of his stitches, " _That's all_?" He sneered, "no retort, no disagreement, no insolent remark?"

"No sir.."

"Well, I'm positively _speechless_ ," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "very well - as for my bandages, do whatever it is you need to do and be done with it."

Maria felt the sadness engulf her again as she made work of changing his dressings. She tried not to let his words hurt her - after all it wasn't his fault, this wasn't the real him. He was back behind the disciplinary mask but she knew now that this was nothing more than his coping mechanism, a way of dealing with his grief. Deep down behind the stoic, disagreeable authoritarian was _her Georg_ \- the loving father, the passionate Austrian, the pensive gentleman he had proven himself to be. Instead of being angered by his ill-temper, as she would've been two months ago, she found that she was deeply saddened and that she pitied him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him he didn't have to push everyone away, that it was okay to _feel_.

But as far as he was concerned she was nothing more than the governess, a servant, a stranger in his home. And as his steely gaze bore into her, his eyes darkened in a contemptuous glare, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd entirely imagined the growing connection between them over the past few months.

With delicate hands she peeled the swaths of bandaging from his facial wounds and cleaned them gently, trying desperately to ignore his impatient flinching and his evident desire to get away from her touch as quickly as possible. His indifference towards her hurt deeply and she tried her hardest to be nothing but clinical in her task but it was impossible. She was absolutely convinced he could hear her heart thudding against her ribs as she sat so exquisitely close to him, breathing in his scent, touching the heat of his cheek so intimately - only to receive scorn in return.

"You are dismissed Fraulein," he muttered when she had finally finished her torturous task.

Never in her life had she felt as alone as she did in those moments. In any other circumstances she would have sought comfort in God, but behind her grief, behind her anguish, she felt more than ever that God had turned His back on her. When she had first felt the stirrings of something new and unfamiliar towards the Captain she had felt deeply confused. On the night of the party, she had been so wracked with guilt that she had fled to her tree - believing that what she had been feeling was somehow wrong. But when Georg had found her there, his presence had calmed her, soothed her, and made everything seem so clear. And she had felt, in those moments, that nothing could ever be as pure and as beautiful and as _holy_ as what she felt for this man.

But as she dared to look into the angry, vacant eyes of her distant employer, the disdain burning a hole in her, she realised that she had been entirely foolish. _Of course_ she had sinned. She had betrayed God's will. And now He was punishing her in the very worst way.

She thought briefly of leaving, of running back to the abbey to seek forgiveness. But she knew now didn't deserve God's forgiveness. Instead, she had a duty to the seven souls she had grown to love. She would put aside her own selfish anguish and do everything she could to restore their relationship with their father. _Again_.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: here we go, the next instalment! I do hope you like it - things are starting to get interesting and I've got big plans for the next chapter! So enjoy**

* * *

Max had been meaning to get the governess alone for some time now so that he could talk to her about the rather curious situation with Georg. He wasn't even sure there _was_ a situation between the two of them anymore, particularly given the fact that Georg had reverted back to treating her with nothing but the utmost disdain. The only indication that anything more may have once existed between them was the sudden change in Fraulein Maria. The girl was suddenly subdued, forlorn, almost timid - not a pinch on the girl that had first turned up at the villa and given the mighty Captain von Trapp a piece of her mind. Max would openly admit he had a business interest in the girl - she was talented beyond question - and it simply wouldn't do if she were to continue being so melancholy that she failed to excel in her talents. What he wouldn't so openly admit however, was the simple fact that he was also worried about her.

Ever since the day of the attack she had appeared as though she was eaten up by something. Guilt? Remorse? Heartache? He wasn't sure. But it was beginning to affect the children too. Not only had their father reverted back to his distant ways, but their once vibrant, spritely governess was finding it difficult to keep their spirits up. They were saddened, confused - and he was beginning to see the first signs of their lashing out again. They were restless and seeking out attention, and it seemed that their biggest target this time round was not in fact their governess, but Elsa. He would've found it all rather amusing if it wasn't for the gravity of the situation. Over the last ten days, since the children had seen their father for the first time after the attack, Elsa had been victim to a beetle in her lemonade, her cigarette holder being used as a spitball shooter, and her make up bag being raided for a rather expensive game of dress up amongst the youngest girls. That last stunt had resulted in Elsa turning as white as her pearls and lashing out at the governess for her inability to control the little terrors. The old Fraulein Maria had almost made an appearance then, cracking an amused smile and attempting to explain that she was once a powerless victim to the children's pranks herself... But the icy glare that Elsa shot her had silenced the Fraulein abruptly and she had immediately reverted back to her newfound timidity, apologising and insisting that she would keep the children in check.

"Those _little darlings_ will be shipped right off to boarding school as soon as I have any say in the matter," Elsa had sneered coolly to Max under her breath, "just wait until Georg hears about this."

"Oh Elsa, they're just harmless children," Max had laughed, dismissing her threats with a lazy wave of his hand.

"Nevertheless I'm sure Georg would wish to hear of their ill treatment towards me," she had insisted, "he wouldn't stand for this nonsense after we're married."

Max knew she was right. The new Georg would've favoured his children over Elsa without question but it seemed that his amnesia was proving to be quite convenient for the baroness. No doubt she had noticed prior to the party that Georg was slipping from her perfectly manicured clutches. He was no longer the man she had thought him to be. But now, given his memory loss, he was right back where she so desperately wanted him.

"Married?" Max had interjected, "do I hear wedding bells?"

"Oh yes, peeling madly," Elsa had smiled loquaciously, batting her thick lashes, "we have been discussing it rather a lot more since he's awoken. Just give me a few more days my darling Max, a few more days," she'd given him a playful wink and Max had suddenly felt rather ill at ease, much to his surprise. After all, hadn't he insisted on their betrothal for quite some time? It was his greatest aim to keep all that lovely money in the family! Only now, things were different. Georg had changed before his attack and Max couldn't help but wonder that perhaps this new Georg - the passionate and intense man who laughed and sang and gazed at his governess a little too long - perhaps he wouldn't have chosen to spend the rest of his life with the rather haughty Elsa Shraeder by his side, as mother to his children.

Since the day of Elsa's vicious outburst towards her, the governess had been sticking to the children like glue and when she wasn't tending to their needs, she was taking her shift in tending to Georg. It had been entirely impossible for Max to get her alone for questioning. He knew it would be difficult to feign a spontaneous conversation on the topic if she were always with the children or their father and so he resigned himself to the fact that he would need to ask her for a private word. No doubt it would alarm her but he believed it necessary. Something needed to be done.

* * *

It was Maria's turn to tend to the Captain again and she couldn't decide whether these regular meetings filled her with dread or a thrilling anticipation. It seemed to be a painful mixture of the two. While he was still very much the snide and sarcastic authoritarian, the initial shock of his situation had worn off and, depending on his mood, he was now more willing to at least treat her with some level of respect. Occasionally, when he was in one of his better moods he would let her tell him about the children's progress and she delighted in the fact that he took an interest in their development. She was careful to keep the topic of conversation to schooling and exercise rather than anything that would be deemed too _fun_ for the von Trapp children. After all, as far as he was concerned his children _did not play, they marched_. But the fact that he listened to her, enquired about her charges, conversed with her in that way during these rare moments alone - she could almost try to forget he'd ever lost his way.

And then of course, there was the _touching_. Entirely one sided and unreciprocated, the sole purpose of her caresses was meant to be to clean his wounds. But the fact that she was allowed those few bittersweet moments of touching his face - healing him, soothing him, feeling the warmth of his skin - it was a reassurance that a soul still hid beneath the cold exterior. Once or twice he had held eye contact with her while she caressed his features with gentle but efficient hands and she had simply stopped breathing, unable to look away from his intense stare and feeling as though they were suddenly dancing the Laendler again. He had looked at her as if he'd seen her before but was struggling to place her.. And yet it also seemed as though he was seeing her for the very first time. Her breathing would quicken in those moments and she could've sworn she had seen his chest rise and fall more rapidly too. It had almost been enough to cause her to grip his hands and blurt out everything she felt, to tell him everything that had passed between them and to beg him to remember. But the doctor had said not to alarm him, and she was terrified that Georg would refuse to believe it, reverting even further into himself. She had no right to ask for his love - God had made that clear. So she said nothing.

"What is it you have the children reading this week Fraulein?" The Captain asked as she busied herself with tidying his bedside table.

"Oliver Twist sir," she muttered, avoiding his scrutinising gaze.

"A fine story," he nodded in satisfaction, "are they taking an interest?"

The truth was that the children had found the wording of the Dickens novel quite tedious and had soon grown restless. Maria's solution had been to stage a reenactment of the scene they were reading, with each of the children playing one of Fagin's boys. She had made a backhanded comment about Kurt clearly having been the Artful Dodger in a previous life and they had all fallen about laughing for the first time in two weeks. It had been a moment of solace for all of them. But she knew somehow that the Captain wouldn't quite appreciate the sentiment.

"Yes sir, they are quite taken with the book," she gave a week smile, "but... "

" _But?"_ He pressed, when she said nothing.

"It's just.. The little ones struggle with the novels Captain, they're so desperate to hear a fairytale..."

"Insufferable drivel.." He muttered, rolling his eyes impatiently.

She felt the first real surge of anger towards him since he'd awoken - a burning frustration on behalf of her charges - and it made her want to shake some sense into him. Pushing others away from fear of being hurt was one thing, but being a stubborn pig-headed fool was another, and she was beginning to lose her patience. She made as if to speak, a protest waiting on her lips - but one look at his face reminded her that it was a lost cause. Clearly he needed more time - if time could even heal such a complicated mess.

Georg watched as the Fraulein battled with herself inwardly, clearly attempting to decide whether or not it was worth starting an argument with him. A week or two ago he would've found such insolence entirely unacceptable but he had to admit that he'd come to find these meetings with her rather entertaining. As an active man, being confined to his room was becoming exceedingly boring and he'd taken sport in trying to decipher the Fraulein. This woman seemed timid, reserved, quiet, submissive.. And yet very rarely he would see a glimpse of fire, a rare flash of anger, a sudden glimmer of righteous defiance that she would desperately try to suppress. In those moments he would watch her open her mouth as if to retort, only to think better of it and revert back into her shell. He found great entertainment in pushing her, to see whether or not she would finally give in to those curious flashes of rebellion.

"I suppose you believe fairytales to be a solid foundation of a child's education," he smirked, watching her bite her lip in an attempt to prevent an argument.

"You are quite right sir," she responded coolly, fixating on her task of rearranging the bed covers, "when children so young are in the first stages of reading I think it's important to find a story they can truly immerse themselves in."

"Tales of handsome princes and evil dragons and princesses locked in towers?" He continued to smirk in that entirely infuriating way.

Maria gritted her teeth, "otherwise known as _insufferable drivel_..."

There it was - another small glimpse of her repressed fire. It almost made Georg's smirk widen.

He allowed a short silence to pass between them before speaking again.

"Well I can certainly relate to the princesses locked in towers right now, being cooped up in here," he grumbled, the infamous scowl replacing his smirk, "it's maddening."

She said nothing and avoided his eyes, causing his frustration to flicker in his chest.

"Would you stop fussing with the bed covers, they're perfectly fine!" He snapped, agitated.

She left the bed alone and he could've sworn he saw her roll her eyes as she made her way to the chair by his bedside.

"I'm going outside today Fraulein, I've had quite enough of this nonsense," he barked. He was readying himself to give a lengthy speech about the fact that he was perfectly well, that some fresh air would do him good and that nobody had the right to stop him. But the Fraulein simply shrugged and nodded her complicity.

He had expected a protest of some kind, a hand pushing him further into the pillows and insisting he rest, but instead she said, "I quite agree, it seems pointless to be bedridden when you have perfect use of your arms and legs."

"Quite," he nodded in satisfaction, a little taken aback, "would you please lay out a suit for me to change into? You have permission to go in my armoire to retrieve one."

He watched as she complied, making her way to the wardrobe at the further end of the room.

"Do you have a preference sir?" Maria was sifting through the various suits in the armoire when her eyes fell upon his navy uniform. She felt her pulse quicken as a forbidden image of a devilishly handsome Captain wearing the attire forced itself to the forefront of her mind.

"There's a dark navy one I'd like to wear.."

Maria's thoughts wandered back to their conversation weeks ago in the tree when they'd spoken about that very same suit.

"Ah yes, Agathe's favourite.." She replied without thinking.

The silence that followed was palpable and the atmosphere hung thick with a newfound tension.

" _What did you say_?" His voice was low, icy, dangerous and she felt his eyes burning into her back.

She froze, inwardly cursing her stupidity and her running mouth. Slowly she turned to face him, dreading what she would see.

"How do you know that.." He murmured coldly, his eyes glazing over with silent anger. Maria's heart broke as she watched him struggle to conceal his pain.

"You.. You told me sir," she whispered.

 _"I would never have told you that_!" He growled.

"You.. You were wearing the suit a few weeks ago and you told me that it.."

"I haven't worn it in years!"

"Captain, you were..."

" _Enough!"_ He lunged forward in his sitting position on the bed in an attempt to intimidate her into silence, but the movement caused him pain and he suddenly grabbed at his chest, wincing and cursing with a shout.

"Captain!" Maria hurried to him, their conversation forgotten as she made to unbutton his pyjamas and uncover whatever was causing his suffering.

"What are you doing?" he grimaced, alarmed by her advances and attempting to swat her hands away - but she simply slapped at his fingers and resumed her task, "it's nothing," he insisted, "it's just a bruise!"

But she wouldn't listen and he tried and failed to scramble away from her as she hurriedly undid each button. A sudden and unexpected heat began to unfurl in the pit of his stomach as he watched her delicate hands undress him, too absorbed in her task to notice his discomfort. Oblivious to the effect she was having on her patient, she shoved the silk material aside to reveal a violent blackened bruise across his sternum. She gasped and ran her fingers featherlight over the expansive mark, a vicious reminder of the way Zeller had stamped on him in his attack.

Georg gritted his teeth and attempted to breathe through the alarming sensation of her touch on his naked torso, entirely bewildered by his body's reaction to what should've been nothing more than a clinical examination. She was the governess and a postulant for goodness sake - it was entirely inappropriate. But her fingertips were searing his skin where they brushed against flesh and hair as she checked for any signs of something more sinister, and he was overwhelmed by a scent he felt he recognised - a heady combination of roses, lavender and something he couldn't quite place. She was bent over him, the curve of her neck and the milky skin of her collarbone within inches of his lips and he felt his mouth water at the thought. With careful precision, she traced the outline of the bruise, her nimble fingers causing his flesh to tighten with need. She was examining him so closely that he could feel her breath against his flesh and it made his head reel, thoughts of her lips following the same path as her fingers edging into his mind. Unkowingly, she grazed a nipple and he felt the pull all the way to his groin. The entire scene was painstakingly, erotically intimate and she had no idea.

His heart thudded in his throat and amidst the lustful stupor, despite his better judgement, he felt oddly moved by her concern. Elsa had seen the bruise when changing his nightclothes and had enquired about it but had soon dismissed the topic when he'd insisted it was nothing. And he'd told the governess about Agathe? The knowledge deeply unsettled him. Why would he have told her something so personal, so intimate?

She continued to gently prod and graze at his chest and he was grateful that she wasn't looking at his face, for he feared his eyes would betray his absurd lust. He felt his control slipping, his mind wandering in arousing directions he didn't want it to, and the realisation made the frustration bubble in his veins again. This was entirely ludicrous.

He suddenly grabbed her wrist to still her movements and her head snapped up with eyes blown wide, meeting his intense stare for the first time since she began her explorations of his body.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through her and she suddenly realised the implications of her actions when she saw his eyes darkened with heavy frustration, his lips pressed together as if fighting for control, his chest rising and falling rapidly - and she realised she'd seen that look before. He'd looked at her that way when they'd been in the tree and he'd almost kissed her. He'd looked at her that way when they'd danced the Laendler. And she found herself frozen to the spot, drowning in the intensity of it as her stomach turned to liquid fire. Never taking his eyes off hers, he slowly lowered her hand to rest on his chest and she dared to splay her fingers against the warm skin and muscle and hair, to really _feel_ him. _Was her Georg in there?_

A knock at the door startled her into reality and she leapt up from the bed and rushed to the window in an effort to put some distance between them, while Georg made hasty work of his buttons.

Max entered the room to find his friend half clothed on the bed and a very flustered Fraulein staring a little too intently out the window.

"Er... Is this a bad time?" He smirked, finding great amusement in the fact that his suspicions about the two of them seemed to be correct.

"For goodness sake Max, it's not what it looks like," Georg snapped, finishing with his buttons, "Fraulein Maria was inspecting a nasty bruise on my chest."

"Mm.." Max teased, "well I do hope for your sake that she was.. _thorough_."

Georg's eyebrows shot up to his hairline but before he had time to retort, Max was turning his attentions to the Fraulein.

"It's actually _you_ I've come in search of my dear," he said, noting the look of alarm on her face, "I just wondered if I could possibly speak with you in the drawing room when convenient?"

An eerie silence engulfed the room and Max looked from the governess, to Georg,back to the governess again - perplexed by their expressions. The girl looked positively terrified and Georg's jaw was set heavily in silent discomfort as if he wished to protest.

 _"Was it something I said_?" Max asked, baffled.

"No, no.. That's fine Her Detweiler," the Fraulein finally found her voice, "I will come down with you now."

"Excellent," Max grinned, delighting in Georg's obvious distaste for being left ill-informed, "Georg, do excuse us."

They made to leave but Georg stopped them.

"Fraulein."

She turned to face him, her eyes betraying a mixture of heat and confusion.

"No fairytales," he remarked coolly, "have I made myself clear?"

Her heart sank. The mask was back.


	9. Chapter 9

Maria followed Max to the drawing room in panicked silence, wringing her hands in front of her as the Captain's words rattled around in her head like loose stones.

 _No fairytales._

What on earth had she been thinking, raking her hands through his chest hair like a common harlot. No wonder he had responded the way he did - at the time she'd been fixated on checking for further injury but in retrospect she realised it was no better than a sordid seduction on her part. When she'd finally looked at his face, the look in his eyes had stolen the air from her lungs and she'd been so wrapped up in the thudding of his heartbeat against her hand, that she'd almost forgotten it was not _her_ Georg she was caressing, but Captain von Trapp - her dark and distant employer. What on earth must he think of the wanton governess who took such inappropriate liberties?

 _What must God think?_ The question filled her with unrelenting dread and made her blood run cold. Was she purposefully trying to defy Him? His punishment was one of the utmost anguish - He was putting her heart in the firing line of the Captain's indifference, his contempt, and it hurt every single time - being treated with such derision, having to watch helplessly from afar as the deep and complicated man struggled alone with his demons because any efforts to comfort him would be met only with disdain. And yet she actively continued to go back for more, walking willingly into the fire that God lay in her path time and time again, revelling in the bittersweet pain of her isolation. She was a fool, a sinner, the worst excuse for a follower of the Lord.

"Take a seat Fraulein," Max gestured towards the nearby sofa and took up residence next to the fireplace, leaning against the mantel with a hand on his hip.

She complied and fixed her gaze to the floor, her heart in her mouth as she prayed that the topic of this discussion would merely be the children, who Max had been watching during her shifts with the Captain.

"I hope you don't think me too forward Fraulein but I'm a man who rather likes to get to the point," Max began, tugging at his moustache thoughtfully and fixing her with a pointed look. She said nothing, staring at the fidgeting hands in her lap. She looked positively terrified.

"Fraulein, please don't be alarmed, I merely want to make sure you're okay," he reassured her, "ever since the night of the party you.. Well you haven't seemed _yourself_."

The girl nodded defeatedly, looking as though she was attempting to hold back tears, but still she said nothing.

"Did the attack rattle you? I understand it must've been truly awful to watch..."

 _You have no idea_ , Maria thought.

Still she said nothing and Max wondered whether confronting her had been such a good idea after all. He was getting nowhere and it was getting increasingly more awkward.

"It's just... You sang so beautifully the night of the puppet show and the children were absolutely enchanting the night of the party," he pressed, "I haven't heard any of you sing since the attack. What's wrong with all you gloomy pusses?"

He had attempted to lighten the mood but at his words the Fraulein let out an anguished sound filled with sadness and flung herself from the sofa, pacing the room in an attempt to rid herself of her agitation.

"He doesn't like us to sing anymore," her voice shook as she became flustered, "it's not the same.. _he_ isn't the same..."

 _Bingo,_ Max thought. _Just as he'd suspected_. "He?" the impresario pressed, "Georg?"

"Except he _isn't_ Georg..not anymore!" She cried, tears pooling in her eyes as she looked Max in the face for the first time during their confrontation, "it's all such a mess!"

It hadn't taken much for the Fraulein to succumb to his line of questioning and Max realised with a tinge of unexpected guilt that the poor girl had been struggling with her anguish and confusion entirely in isolation. She'd had no one to confide in, no one to talk to - and nobody had had the compassion to ask.

His suspicions had clearly been correct - his friend and the governess _were_ in love. Or at least they had been before Georg had lost his memory. And now the poor young woman was struggling silently through an unrequited affection for a man she wasn't sure even existed anymore. Max had seen many different sides to his oldest friend over the years and the bitter, twisted man who currently sat upstairs behind his aristocratic mask was by far the hardest to come to terms with. It was a side of him that had turned many better men than Max Detweiler to stone. His heart went out to the Fraulein. He too understood what it was like to know the real Georg only to watch helplessly as the defensive walls slowly came up, blocking the rest of the world out.

Stilling the Fraulein's frantic pacing he willed her to take a seat again. As he looked upon her defeated face, her shoulders drooped in sadness like a vulnerable child, he wanted nothing more than to respond to her woes in classic Max Detweiler fashion and give a dismissive wave of his hand, telling her to cheer up, sing and few songs and everything would be fine.

It would certainly be the easier thing to say and would also do him no harm with regards to his plans for pulling her out of her depression and securing her very profitable future stardom.

But for once in his life, compassion seemed to surpass the allure of monetary gain.

"Fraulein, I can't deny that it is indeed a mess, and I will not pretend I've ever been a man of wise words," she cracked a watery smile at his observation, "there may be nothing left that we can do for Georg," he continued sadly, "but there's so much we can still do, that _you_ can still do, for those seven little souls that worship the very ground you walk on."

It was sad but true, Max thought, hoping that the Fraulein would understand. There was no more intervention to be done with Georg - he was a stubborn man and it seemed he didn't _want_ to try and remember. Things would have to take their natural course now, whatever that course turned out to be. The girl would be better off putting a man with so much emotional baggage behind her.

She nodded her understanding and he noticed a flicker of light in her eyes that he hadn't seen in weeks.

"If you can do nothing else, then just be their _guide_ Fraulein.. God only knows they need one now more than ever."

He smiled and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, inwardly cursing his newfound and costly empathy. Still, if it was indeed a twinkle he'd seen returning to her eye, he might still make a legendary performer of her yet!

* * *

Three days had simply flown by since Georg's bizarre encounter with the governess and he was relieved to finally be up and about, no longer confined to the cocoon of his bedroom and the prison of his thoughts. While his face was still various tinges of purple and green in places, his injuries were fading and he was able to enjoy the sunshine and the company of his guests.

Sitting on the veranda and enjoying a cigar with Max, he watched satisfactorily as his children marched about the grounds in the sunshine, as instructed. When cooped up in his room he hadn't been able to determine whether the governess had been adhering to his rules for the children, but now that he was back on his feet he took great satisfaction in the knowledge that he could keep a beady eye on all eight of them.

He took a deep, peaceful breath, "listen to that Max," he said on his relaxed exhalation.

"I don't hear anything.." His friend replied, baffled.

"Exactly," Georg smirked, taking another long drag of his cigar, "just _peace and quiet_."

Elsa was in town with friends, the staff were all exactly where they should be, and for once everything was in perfect order, "And all it takes is a little discipline."

Max followed his friends eyes and realised he was referring to the children who were all staring forlornly at the floor as they marched, silent as mice and headed up by their Fraulein who was doing her best to make the tedious task a cheerful one.

A long, charged silence passed between the two gentlemen before Max finally asked, "Georg... Don't you remember _anything_ at all from before the party?"

"For goodness sake Max, not this again," Georg rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, "I told you I remember nothing and I'm sick to death of trying! What good is it remember the past anyway?"

 _If only you knew_ , Max thought. But instead of upsetting his friend further he merely replied with a nod of his head.

Georg settled back into his chair, satisfied that the unwelcome topic of conversation had been put to rest. Until -

"Georg..."

" _Christ Max_ , what now?"

"It's just.. " the impresario looked as though he were trying to choose his words carefully and Georg felt his patience begin to wane, "I don't suppose you remember any.. _Puppets_..do you? _Singing_ perhaps?"

Georg fixed his friend with a look of utter perplexity, his eyebrows raised in bewilderment, "a word of advice Max, maybe lay off the whiskey...What on earth are you up to now, puppets?"

"Nothing.. It's nothing."

 _Why was everyone acting so peculiarly_.. Georg thought.

"The only singing I remember," he sneered, "was when I found that ridiculous Fraulein prancing around her bedroom singing about kittens and fairies or some such nonsense the night before I left for Vienna. And I soon put a stop to that."

Max held his hands up in surrender and Georg turned to watch his children again, glad to have put an end to his friend's bizarre line of questioning.

His eyes drifted to the head of the marching line, taking in the Fraulein's lithe frame in the sunlight. She really was a riddle - one he found himself compelled to crack. He had begun feeling some very bizarre things in her company. He was sexually attracted to her, that much was clear, but it wasn't the heated lust that bothered him - he'd lusted after women before and it had been of little consequence. Rather, it was the perplexing sense of _deja vu_ that she evoked within him that left him rattled.

He felt almost as though he'd known her in a previous life and yet he couldn't possibly know her at all. They were no more than strangers and yet there were times when their eyes would meet across a room or they'd touch accidentally and the wind would be entirely knocked out of him.

He knew nothing of the _real_ Maria, but he couldn't shake the disturbing feeling that somehow a cloistered life was the wrong path for this curious woman. And despite knowing hardly anything about her character, he had an unsettling suspicion that she just wasn't _herself_. There were walls she'd put up, a mask she'd adopted - and much to his irritation, it left him feeling a very strange mixture of sadness and curiosity.

 _What was she hiding from, what was she so afraid of?_ He had a peculiar feeling that he ought to know the answer to his own question but then again, why would he know anything about her? She was a complete mystery.

Pulling himself together, he sat up straighter in his chair and shook thoughts of his governess from his mind. Trying to determine why he felt so oddly towards the Fraulein had been entirely distracting him from the path he'd planned for his future. He was a meticulous planner, another asset he prided himself on, and it annoyed him that he'd allowed the governess to get in the way of his normally foolproof strategising. He needed to put a stop to this ludicrous curiosity and get his life in order.

He had brought Elsa back to his home with one objective in mind and that had been to introduce her to his children so that he could eventually make an offer of marriage. Zeller's attack had thrown his ship off course slightly but now that he was back on his feet he saw no reason to delay the inevitable. He couldn't recall why he hadn't proposed prior to the party in the first place - after all, hadn't Elsa been at his home for a sufficient amount of time by then? Either way, it hardly mattered. He'd been courting her for the better part of a year and he'd put it off long enough. The two of them had a mutual affection for one another but more importantly for Georg there was a mutual understanding that love simply didn't come into their arrangement. It was a fine, high society match, they were close friends, and they were attracted to one another. It simply made sense.

 _So what was it that had been stopping him before?_

* * *

Two days later and the monotony of the daily marching was becoming too much for Maria. Now that the Captain had been up and about for the best part of a week, she was forced to bend for his ridiculous rules, constantly under his scrutinising watch, and it made it all the more difficult to cheer the children up.

While he'd been bedridden, Maria had felt too troubled to truly sing or play or dance with the children like she used to and in retrospect she chastised herself for not taking greater advantage of the Captain's absence. Since her talk with Her Detweiler she'd become determined to treat the children with every bit of vigour and enthusiasm as she had done prior to the attack. But ironically, now that their father was present more often than not, it had become a complete impossibility. Instead, a gloomy essence shrouded the children's little forms as they were forced to march in perfect sync in their horrible uniforms and it broke Maria's heart.

Despite his relentless insistence on their continuous exercise and his ridiculous array of various regulations, Maria had begun to notice subtle changes in the Captain that filled her with a hope she hardly dared to acknowledge. He was still every bit as reserved, every bit as haughty, every bit as impatient and stubborn. But there were moments when she would catch him looking at her in the most peculiar way and instead of averting his eyes he would hold her gaze with such a heated intensity that she could've sworn she was looking at Georg. _Her_ Georg. And her knees would almost buckle beneath her, only to watch him retreat again suddenly, as though he'd barely even seen her. Guilt and shame would mingle with the newfound hope then - a constant reminder that God was always watching.

"Fraulein Maria, do you mind if we stop now? We're tired," Kurt murmured sadly, met with nods of agreement from his siblings.

Maria glanced apprehensively up at the villa but, seeing no sign of her employer, she willingly allowed her charges a much needed break.

"Of course children," she sighed, "what would you like to do instead?"

"Can we play Blind Man's Bluff Fraulein?" Gretl tugged at Maria's skirt adorably, "it's my favourite."

"Silly, we're not allowed to play now that father is well again," Friedrich retorted dismissively.

"We're not allowed to _do anything_ now that father's well again," Brigitta muttered, staring at the ground.

Louisa nodded in agreement, a scowl not dissimilar to her father's deepening her features, "I almost wish he was still confined to that bed..."

" _Louisa!"_ Maria chastised, evoking a look of guilt from the girl, "you know your father went through a terrible ordeal and he is still very much recovering.. You shouldn't say such things."

"It's okay Fraulein," Leisl interjected solemnly, "We all knew it was too good to be true anyway."

Recognising the solemn acceptance in the girls face, Maria realised that Leisl had become a young woman in a matter of days. No longer blinded by childhood naivety, she knew full well that her father may never return to them and as a result she had adopted the role of surrogate mother to her siblings for a second time - without complaint and without reluctance. Maria's heart swelled with pride for the eldest von Trapp child. She'd had her childhood taken from her and yet she willingly sacrificed the rest of her adolescence for the sake of her siblings.

"Right," Maria clapped her hands together in determination, attempting to startle them out of their depressing reverie, "enough of this moping around, who's going to be the Blind Man?"

* * *

Laughing so hard she thought she might break a rib, Maria watched as a blindfolded Freidrich lunged towards a nimble Brigitta only to grab thin air as the girl dodged his advance with effortless ease. They'd been playing uninterrupted for an hour and if it hadn't been for the children's sailor suits, Maria could've convinced herself it was just like old times. With the cloudless skies above them and the squealing laughter of the children echoing through the trees, Maria felt for the first time in a while that everything was right with the world. Their joyous innocence anchored her, reminded her of her purpose and she took great comfort in knowing that she was finally doing God's will. It was almost enough to make her forget the sinful allure of those piercing blue eyes and the desperate longing she so adamantly tried to conceal..

Finally Friedrich managed to grab an unsuspecting Kurt around the middle, pulling him to ground in victory and before she knew it Maria was lying on the ground in a heap with all seven of her charges, laughing and chattering away as though they hadn't a care in the world. In those precious moments it suddenly dawned on her that, for the first time in her life, she felt as though she had discovered where she truly belonged.

Their laughter was immediately halted dead by the shrill shriek of a high-pitched whistle and Maria's head jerked up from her position on the ground to see a seething Captain standing on the veranda - tall and menacing with his brow contorted in silent rage and clutching that damned boatswain whistle she'd hoped never to see again. Before she knew what was happening, the had children scrambled to their feet in alarm and taken off towards the veranda like loyal dogs, traitorously leaving their governess sprawled on the ground as she caught her breath.

Hurriedly getting to her feet, she joined them on the veranda, her eyes darting suspiciously from the apprehensive Her Detweiler sat on the Captain's left, to the amused Baroness Shraeder on his right, silently begging for one of them to calm the raging beast. No such luck.

"I thought I'd made it perfectly clear Fraulein that while you may have gotten away with such insolence while I was indisposed, now that I'm very much well again I will not tolerate such ludicrous and uncouth behaviour!"

When she did nothing but nod in response, he took a steadying breath and rolled his eyes in frustration, turning his attention to the children. He had far more urgent matters to attend to.

"Now, _children_ ," he barked, pacing slowly in front of their line up like a lion eyeing its prey, "I have some important news I think you all ought to hear and I believe it will make us all very happy."

Maria's heart began to pound wildly in her chest as she witnessed the scene unfolding before her very eyes, as if in slow motion. The world seemed to fade around her and the Captain's voice was drowned out by the sickening pounding in her ears as her insides knotted with unbearable torment. She watched in silent horror as the captain approached the baroness and placed his hands affectionately on her shoulders. She watched in cold dread as a self-satisfied smile crept across the elegant woman's freshly powdered face. She watched in utter dismay as Her Detweiler guiltily avoided her anguished gaze. And she watched in utter hopelessness as God delivered his final blow.

"We talked about it last night, it's all settled," the Captain gripped the Baroness's hand, "You're going to have a new mother."

* * *

 **A/N: It seems poor Maria can't catch a break! Ive taken her through some rough chapters! This chapter was mostly a filler so I apologise if it rattled on a bit but it's necessary to the story and sets up the next chapter nicely, which I promise will be juicy! Please do review and I'll update very soon.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/n: Some of you said you were dying for a quick update so I just had to deliver! This entire chapter takes part across one scene so it's a little shorter than the previous ones, but I hope you like it.**

* * *

Maria gazed forlornly out onto the lake, letting twilight's restless breeze prickle her skin and praying that its soothing presence would also wash away her deep sense of sorrow.

Clutching onto the iron gate, she willed herself to forget the humiliation of the afternoon, when she had attempted to conceal her devastation while congratulating the captain and the baroness on their engagement. It had taken every ounce of self control to bite back the tears as his eyes had bore into her own, almost as though he recognised the anguish he saw there. But she must have imagined it, for he couldn't _possibly_ know. She had only allowed the tears to fall when he and the baroness had left the villa for a celebratory lunch and she had managed to escape to her room for a moment of privacy.

The most tragic thing about the scene as it had unfurled around her was the fact that it had become painfully clear to Maria that, try as she might to do God's will, try as she might to deny her sinful feelings, she was hopelessly and wholly in love with the man in front of her. It had hit her like a blow to the chest with sudden and startling clarity: her love for him knew no bounds. It didn't matter that he was cruel and cold on the surface - her affection for him only deepened for every one of his dismissive jibes and cruel taunts precisely because she saw them for what they truly were: a mere shield for his pain. The hard exterior of this passionate and complicated man was nothing more than a charade to hide the soul beneath. A soul that would never see the light of day with the baroness by his side.

Worse still, was the realisation that God truly _had_ abandoned her. By revelling in her pain and basking in the bittersweet torment of her forbidden feelings, she had willingly sealed her own treacherous fate, and she was wholly deserving of God's desertion. She had taken His final blow as the ultimate sign: it had been a mistake to ever believe that she belonged here.

Faced with such a devastating realisation, she had known that very afternoon that there was only one thing she could do. She would have to go back to the abbey and beg for His forgiveness. The Lord was merciful and just, and with the Reverend Mother's guidance she would repent in the hope that He would forgive a naive young girl for straying so far from her intended path.

It hadn't taken her long to write her letter of resignation, scribbling some brief, formal words that she left on the Captain's desk in his absence that afternoon. If it hadn't been for the children she would have fled the villa that very hour but she had wanted to tell them after dinner and allow them time to digest the news and say their goodbyes. She owed them that much. She had even briefly considered staying for their sakes but God had made it all too clear that she had outstayed her welcome. The damage had already been done.

A baritone voice suddenly pierced her reverie and stilled her beating heart.

" _Just what is the meaning of this Fraulein_!"

She started with a jolt and whirled around to find the very subject of her woeful thoughts standing in the twilight, jacketless and brooding, and waving her letter of resignation in the air aggressively. The breeze seemed to become more forceful suddenly in his presence and it rustled his hair so beautifully, but the effect was lost against his thunderous scowl piercing through the dusk.

When the lump in her throat prevented her from answering him he took a forceful step forward and she felt her breath catch at his proximity, stepping away from him in her anguish. Would there be no end to this man's torment? She was beaten, defeated - she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

"Answer me!" He bellowed.

Feeling weaker than she'd ever felt, she willed herself to hold back tears that threatened to fall as she murmured timidly, "I'm no longer needed sir, the children are to have a new mother."

Georg watched her retreat further into herself and he felt the raging furnace burn in his chest at her attempts to put him at a distance. This girl was an utter mystery to him and yet he had been met with a baffling sense of panic when he had found her letter on his desk mere minutes ago. The words had been short and to the point, explaining that her presence at the von Trapp household was no longer needed and that she had a duty to fulfill in returning to the abbey. It had left him feeling shaken, somehow bereft - a reaction he didn't understand, which only added to his fury.

"You do not get to decide when your obligations here come to an end!" He barked, "that is for _me_ to decide!"

He tore the letter up furiously and let the pieces scatter around their feet, fixing her with an icy look of determination with his jaw set in heavy frustration. It was then that Maria began to feel her repressed temper flaring from within like a beast awakening from hibernation. Weeks of turmoil, weeks of isolation, weeks of distress congealed and bubbled raw in her gut as his conceited arrogance and stubbornness lathered her up into a silent rage.

Still she kept it concealed, allowing it to simmer dangerously below the surface, "forgive me sir but I believe that I alone have autonomy over my body and its whereabouts."

"You have a duty to complete your post!" He snapped, angered further by her insolent reply, "Do not forget it!"

"I will be leaving first thing in the morning, sir," she replied calmly, attempting to breathe through the sensation of her blood boiling in her veins as her patience waned. She was vaguely aware of the sky gradually darkening with the first signs of a storm but the Captain's sharp reply soon stole her attention.

"Why!" He shouted, his jaw clenched in his anger, his lack of understanding causing his temper to reveal itself. He was a man of steel control, a man of sharp intellect and the fact that he was unable to grasp what was happening in front of his very nose was causing his frustration to reach new heights, "it has taken me _years_ to hold down a governess! You're the only one who's made it this far. Tell me why you are deciding to leave now!"

"I told you sir, I am no longer needed."

Georg felt his turmoil, his anger, his bitterness fill his chest at her pitiful response. She was lying, there was something no one was telling him. He couldn't fathom what it was but he could see it in the way she looked at him, he could sense it in the way Max behaved so peculiarly towards him, he could feel it in the way his children reacted to his presence. _Something was amiss_.

"Do not lie to me Fraulein, I am not a stupid man!" He shouted, "There is something I don't know, something that you are all hiding from me!"

He took another step closer, daring himself to push further as she turned away from him, his anger getting the better of his mouth - propriety be damned, "what is it you're hiding!" He accused, letting her take the brunt of his pain as the walls of formality rapidly crumbled around them, "what are you running from Fraulein! There is something I don't know!"

He watched her body stiffen but still her back was turned and he felt his provocative nature rise, "You aren't leaving for duty's sake," he spat, "you're fleeing whatever this is out of cowardice!"

The Fraulein whirled around to face him and he stopped short. He had no idea what he had said to hit such a nerve but her face was contorted with such anguish, with such a strong conveyance of her own hurt and anger, that he thought he might sink to his knees before her.

"Cowardice?!" She shouted, as the timid governess from only moments ago rapidly disappeared, replaced by a fiery duplicate.

" _Cowardice?!"_ She repeated, leaving him more than taken aback by the challenge in her voice and the fire in her eyes. He had seen flickers of it during their rare encounters but nothing could have prepared him for her fury. It made his heart still in his ribs.

" _You_!" Maria cried, the anguish rising higher in her chest as she failed to keep the words from pouring out of her mouth, "The decorated naval captain who has faced great dangers to protect what he believes in and yet cannot even bring himself to face the truth.. This captain accuses _me_ of cowardice?!" She spat, her repressed temper released in full force, reminding her all too well of a similar argument by the lakeside only weeks ago, "You abandoned your own children in your time of despair, you hide behind an aristocratic mask hardly able to confront your own feelings, you don't dare to talk about what happened to you the night of the party, and you are _marrying a woman you do not love_!"

The shock on his face was more than evident now and the clouds above them had finally opened up. Rain enveloped their encounter, and before long it was soaking through his shirt as it clung to him, his hair plastered to his forehead as the eerie silence stretched on.

He stood before her with such stunned agony in his expression, so dishevelled in his appearance as the storm made its mark, that he was suddenly no longer the aristocrat, no longer the naval hero, no longer the iron mask - but simply a man in his rawest form.

Georg heard nothing but the blood pounding in his own ears as her words sunk in. For the first time in his life he was rendered speechless. Her accusations had entirely unearthed him as she'd torn down his walls effortlessly, her fists clenched in her fury and her rain-soaked dress clinging deliciously to her every curve. In those moments, he had felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to silence her mouth with his own in a fierce display of possession. Something bizarre and raw and intense somehow existed between himself and this woman and yet he was entirely at a loss as to why or how. Her words had stirred him deeply and he wanted nothing more than to cover her body with his own up against the tree behind her - a tree that, for a reason he couldn't fathom, seemed to stand out from the rest. He felt an inferno of restless desire and angst in her company but as her words tore around in his head it was soon replaced by a nuclear pool of anger that left him wanting to throttle her for her disturbingly accurate observations. _How dare she?!_

He opened his mouth, intending to bellow her into submission, but she cut him off - his vulnerability giving her the courage to shout louder above the thundering of the rain as it hit her delectable skin, "do not think for one minute captain, that because I am inexperienced in the ways of the world, that I know nothing of pain and heartache!" she cried, her voice breaking, "I have felt them so uninhibitedly these past few months that I could hardly breathe. Do you think me so young, so naive, so unsophisticated that I am incapable of feeling?! Do you believe me so ignorant as to be blissfully unaware of your cruelty?!"

His brow furrowed in confusion and she took a step towards her bewildered onlooker, clutching at her heart in her grief and stopping herself from pounding her small fists against his stupid wet chest. _Was he so pig headed that he was oblivious to her turmoil? Oblivious to how exquisitely painful it was to love someone so hopelessly unattainable?_

"That's quite enough Fraulein!" He had intended to yell his command forcefully and stop her onslaught of unsettling words but instead it came out in a strangled rasp. _Who was this woman and how did she have the ability to pull the world out from under his feet?_

" _Not once_ have you tried to remember, _not once_ have you confronted what happened to you!" She cried, unable to stop her vicious monologue. His face was etched with a dark mix of pain, angst, heat and longing as the raindrops slid down his face and his chest heaved against his sodden shirt, but still she raged on.

"And you revel in your isolation! We have all tried to help you remember, only to be met with utter contempt for our efforts. And _I'm the coward_?" She bellowed in disbelief, "You shut the world out as if you believe it will somehow bring her back!"

She watched him freeze as his deep blue eyes suddenly darkened and his face became a hardened, unreadable mask once again. She knew then that she had crossed a line, that any possibility of getting through to him was entirely dead in the water. Her heart was in her mouth as she gazed upon his rigid form in the semi-darkness, the charged silence shrouding them like a heavy cloak of despair.

" _Leave me_ ," he whispered through clenched teeth, his fists balled at his sides in his fury, his pain radiating from every inch of him.

"Please..," she begged stepping closer to him, wanting to wrap her arms around him and ask him to take comfort in her, "please try and remember.."

" _GO_!" He bellowed and she backed away from him hopelessly, taking flight towards the house and leaving the silhouette of a broken man in her wake.

* * *

 **A/N ohhh the tree! *sigh* please do let me know if you're getting sick of the cliffhangers! I figured with regular updates you might just be able to bear them!**


	11. Chapter 11

For the third night running since the Fraulein had taken her leave from the villa, Georg found that sleep evaded him. Every time he closed his eyes, her anguished face would be etched on the inside of his eyelids - her hair plastered to her head in the rain, her chest heaving against her sodden dress and her foreboding words echoing in his ears as though she were whispering them right there next to him in the darkness.

 _"You shut the world out as if you believe it will bring her back..."_

 _"You are marrying a woman you do not love.."_

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter hoping to block out the memory. Her observations during their heated confrontation had left him feeling so disturbed, so vulnerable, that he had entirely refused to listen to them. The unwelcome words had rolled like acid off her tongue and he had wanted to to shut them out, to run, to send her away - anything that would prevent him from having to acknowledge the truth behind her accusations.

She had wept about pain and heartache and it'd left him entirely puzzled. He had convinced himself that she'd been talking out of turn about his _own_ inner turmoil, but no matter how hard he tried to twist her words into something sinister, to bend the memory into something he could hate her for - he couldn't shake the feeling that it'd been a burden of her _own_ she'd been referring to, a burden he somehow felt responsible for.

He'd felt a surge of relief after she'd left for the abbey the next morning, safe in the knowledge that her eyes could no longer haunt him, could no longer see into his very soul. He would no longer be in danger of losing his iron control. But try as he might to put the entire scene behind him and finally set his plans for his life in motion, he could no longer deny the startling accuracy of her painful words.

It had taken three days of no sleep and the comforting isolation of the night for him to finally admit it to himself. At some point during her absence, Georg had finally acknowledged what he'd scarcely dared to contemplate: _She had been right._

She had been right when she said he hid from the world, she had been right when she said he didn't love Elsa, she had been right when she said he was in denial about what had happened to him.

And the terrifying realisation made the stubborn man in him growl in defiance, entirely adamant that he never wanted to see the woman again. She had forced him to face the unwelcome feelings that he vowed he would bury along with Agathe and in the process she had left him feeling entirely vulnerable. He didn't take kindly to weakness and her brutal honesty had rendered him powerless and fragile.

And as if that hadn't been enough to floor him, the heat that had radiated between them as they'd shouted at one another through the storm had plagued his thoughts and his body ever since. Underneath his outrage, he had felt a primal urge to strip her bear, to make her feel as vulnerable as he did, to lose himself in her body and possess her in ways that would show her she knew _nothing_ of this so called heartache she spoke of. It had gripped him with overwhelming urgency and surpassed anything he thought he'd previously understood about longing.

She had turned his orderly life completely upside down. And now that she was finally gone, he could breathe easy in the knowledge that he'd never again allow anything or anyone to force him to confront the past. His ship was finally back on course.

 _So why couldn't he sleep..._

"Goddamit," he growled, wrenching the covers off his body and wrapping a robe around himself to go in search of a much needed drink. Maybe a whiskey would help sleep finally claim him.

He was stunned to find a bleary eyed Max in the drawing room, nursing his own tumbler of whiskey and bent over deep in thought in one of the armchairs.

"What in God's name are you doing up?" Georg asked, leaning against the doorframe and eyeing his friend in amusement. Normally it was impossible to rouse Max Detweiler from slumber.

"I couldn't sleep," his lodger murmured, staring into space instead of meeting his eyes, absentmindedly swilling the amber liquid around in his glass.

"Well _yes_ I can see that," Georg rolled his eyes in exasperation, "but _why_ can't you sleep?"

"I could ask you the same question," Max fixed him with a scrutinising look, his eyes narrowed in judgement, and Georg suddenly felt uneasy under his watchful gaze.

The impresario observed his friend as he ignored the retort and made his way to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a drink. He wondered whether Georg was robbed of sleep for the same reason that he was. _Guilt._

Shifting uncomfortably in his armchair, he considered what he had been thinking about before the interruption.

 _He should've done more._

He had convinced himself that by cheering the Fraulein up during their private exchange, that he had done his part in fixing this godawful mess. But in retrospect, he knew that he'd done nothing to stop the chaos that had so rapidly ensued right in front of him.

He could've prevented Georg from letting the Fraulein leave, he could've spoken to him about his decision to marry Elsa, he could've tried harder to get the stubborn man to understand what had come to pass before his attack. But instead he'd sat idly by, convincing himself not to meddle, sweeping the deteriorating circumstances under the rug on the premise that he should allow things to take their natural course. But the natural course had turned out to be a damaging one indeed.

He had let the Fraulein down. _He had let his friend down._

Clearing his throat, Georg approached his agitated companion and took a seat in the armchair opposite, observing Max's somewhat dishevelled appearance.

"You look terrible," he muttered, knocking back a larger mouthful of whiskey than would normally be recommended.

"You don't look much better yourself," Max retorted, "have the children been keeping you up at all hours of the night now there's no governess to tend to them?" His voice dripped with derision.

"Ah.. actually they haven't really spoken to me much since I let the Fraulein go," Georg rubbed the back of his ear sheepishly.

 _"I'm surprised you noticed_ ," Max snipped, slugging the rest of his whiskey and getting up to refill his glass, "I can't say I blame them."

Georg was stunned into silence. What on earth had he done to elicit such disdain in a man who'd never taken anything seriously in his life?

Eventually his tongue unstuck itself from the roof of his mouth and he leaned further forward in his chair, "just what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You barely acknowledge their existence as it is, Georg.."

"Max, what is this about?" He scowled, running a frustrated hand through his hair. Yet again he was met with the strange feeling that everyone in the villa was in on a secret he hadn't been privy to and it was beginning to exhaust him.

The two men eyed each other dangerously before Max sighed and threw down the ice tongs he'd been holding with a little too much force.

"It's nothing," he muttered, "nothing."

"No I've damn well had enough of everyone saying its _nothing_!" Georg snarled, jumping to his feet, "there is _something_! Something you know that I don't!"

" _For god sake Georg_ , there's no bloody great big conspiracy that no one's telling you about!" Max snapped, thumping his fist against the cabinet, "You only have to open your eyes and you'd see what's right there in front of you. But you're too damn _stubborn_ to admit it to yourself!"

"What the hell are you talking about!"

 _"The governess_!"

The breath was stolen from Georg's lungs as a charged silence filled the room. The governess? Had he really been that obvious?

"What about her?" He murmured, dreading the answer to his own question.

"You feel for her," Max stated matter-of-factly, causing his blood to run cold, "you feel for her but you don't understand it. And you feel for your children, but you're so busy shutting the world out that you don't want to _remember_."

It was the second time in three days he'd been accused of shutting the world out and the truth behind the statement left Georg just as unnerved as it had done the first time.

"Remember _what_?!"

Max noted the anxiety in his friend's eyes and battled inwardly with himself over how much to reveal to him. After the doctor's stern instructions not to alarm his patient, Max was cautious that his words might cause further damage. But he could no longer stand by and do nothing.

He sighed heavily, "Things _changed_ before your attack Georg. You.. You sang, you danced..there was music.. Laughter.."

"Stop this nonsense!" Georg snapped, beginning to pace the room as he lathered himself up into a rage as his only means of self-defence.

" _You see_?!" Max cried, exasperated, "You don't want to remember! We've all tried to treat this amnesia with care Georg but now it's time you heard it straight! You _changed_ ,my friend - you confronted your demons.. All because of _her_.."

Georg continued to pace furiously, his scowl deepening across his brow. _Because of her?_ He thought back to the way she'd so often looked at him, the bizarre things she made him feel when they were alone. He didn't want to admit to himself that Max's words were starting to make sense.

"Don't you think it's odd that you held a party in the very ballroom you were desperate to keep locked all these years?" Max continued, "When you haven't hosted so much as an afternoon tea since.. "

He trailed off, the meaning of his words all too clear.

"Before all this mess you spoke of memories long forgotten Georg, you spoke.. You spoke of _Agathe_ \- "

"I _can't_.." Georg croaked, collapsing into a nearby chair with his head in his hands, allowing his iron will to slip in front of his oldest friend, "I can't do this!" Max had only seen this side to Georg - the vulnerable side - once before, shortly after his wife's passing and it surprised him to say the least. "It does no good to remember the past!"

" _Try_ Georg!" Max whispered urgently, desperate to right what he'd allowed to go so horribly wrong, "you _must_ try!"

Georg met his friend's eye uncertainly, finding comfort in the determined reassurance he saw there. He was the second person in thirty-six hours to beg of him such a simple request. _Could Max be right too_? He had convinced himself the past didn't matter, but of course it mattered. Remembering it however, was an entirely different story.

* * *

The Reverend Mother sat pensively behind her desk, her brow knitted with worry and the tips of her aged fingers touching together in front of her as she pondered the problem that was Maria Rainer. The girl had returned to the abbey three days ago, rattled and shaking, choking back tears of desperation - and the Mother Abbess had barely had a chance to console her before she'd resigned herself to seclusion. She was at a loss as to what might've happened to the girl and it had disturbed her that she'd seemed so unlike herself.

"Has she spoken yet?" The Reverend Mother looked up from her desk to meet sister Margaretta's eyes, "has she told you anything?"

The younger nun shook her head solemnly, "She hasn't spoken a word Reverend Mother, except in prayer."

It was just as the Reverend Mother had feared.

"Perhaps I've been wrong in leaving her alone for so long.." she pondered aloud, hoping that the Lord would somehow bring her guidance, "bring her to me please sister Margaretta, even if she's not yet ready."

With a curt nod the sister vacated the room and it wasn't long before the young postulant was bowing before the Mother Abbess, a timid reflection of the girl that once ran amuck inside the abbey walls. She looked so broken, defeated, saddened - and the Reverend Mother wondered not for the first time whether the cloistered life was the appropriate path for this child. Being so quiet, so pensive, so subdued - it really didn't suit her character. In fact, it made the Mother Abbess feel a disturbing sense of unease.

"You've been unhappy my child, I'm sorry," she placed a reassuring hand on the frightened girl's shoulder, "Why did they send you back to us?"

Maria took a deep breath, knowing she would have to share the truth with the elderly nun if she were to ever be worthy of God's forgiveness, "They didn't send me back mother, I.. I left."

It was an answer the Reverend Mother hadn't quite expected. Given Maria's somewhat haphazard approach to discipline, she had suspected that her early return was due to the Captain losing his patience with her chaotic ways. The fact that the girl had left of her own accord was puzzling. Gesturing to a nearby chair, she asked Maria to sit, wondering how best to handle the fragile girl's torn nerves, "tell me what happened."

 _Where could she even begin_? Maria thought. How could she possibly tell the Mother Abbess that she'd committed a sin by falling in love with a man on God's errand - a man that no longer seemed to even exist. A man who was now engaged to another woman.

"I was confused.." Maria tried to explain, the words coming out on a shaky breath, wringing her hands in her lap, "I didn't know what to do.. I've never felt that way before.. I knew if I left I'd be away from it, I'd be safe.."

"My child, these abbey walls are not to be used as an escape," the Reverend Mother chided gently, "Why did you leave?"

Feeling as though a rope were being tied around her lungs, Maria choked out the words she'd been afraid to say.

"He isn't _the same_.."

" _He_?" The reverend Mother pressed in surprise, trying to make sense of the girl's confession, "Captain von Trapp?"

When Maria said nothing and stared at the floor in her anguish, the elderly nun pushed further, "are you in love with him?"

"I don't know!" the girl cried, flinging herself from her seat and pacing the room in desperation, "I _was_.. at least I _think_ I was.. Before everything changed. I realise now that it was wrong.. That I'm wholly deserving of God's punishment..."

The elderly woman's forehead creased with a confused frown, "In what way do you believe the Lord is punishing you my child?"

"The Captain suffered a terrible attack and he lost his memory.." She whispered, her pain evident, "He no longer remembers me.. And I deserve nothing less! I was there on God's errand.. Asking for the Captain's love was _wrong_.."

The Reverend Mother sank into her chair as the sheer gravity of the young woman's predicament washed over her. It was indeed an awful mess. No wonder Maria hadn't spoken a word since her return. She'd been wracked with guilt, heartache, confusion - all the while convincing herself that her God had turned his back on her.

An age seemed to pass as the silence stretched on and Maria attempted to bite back the tears as she convinced herself that the Reverend Mother's lack of response was an indication of her disapproval.

"Oh Mother I'm so sorry!" she gushed, flinging herself to the woman's feet, "Please let me beg for forgiveness!"

" _Maria_..," the nun attempted to sooth the young woman's despair, "The love of a man and a woman is holy too. If you love this man it doesn't mean you love God less.." She stood from her chair and took the girl by her upper arms, noting the apprehension in her eyes, "did you ever consider that rather than punishing you, God may be _challenging_ you?"

Maria's heart began to pound against her rib cage at the Reverend Mother's observation. _Challenging her? Why would God be challenging her?_

"You have a great capacity to love my child.." The Reverend Mother continued, "Perhaps God is willing you to explore that capacity. Perhaps he is willing you to discover for yourself just how _much_ you are capable of loving."

Maria allowed the wise woman's words to sink in, trying to make sense of them. She'd been so wrapped up in her guilt, so busy drowning in her despair that she'd failed to even consider that God might be testing her. She thought back to the many times she'd been subjected to the captain's disdain, his painful indifference - only to find that she loved him all the same, if not more. She thought back to their confrontation by the lake and the way her desperate heart had threatened to burst from her chest as she'd looked upon his broken form. She had wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to cradle him in her arms and kiss his pain away. Despite every hurtful word, despite every hateful glare, her love for him knew no bounds.

But none of it mattered now.

"He's engaged Reverend Mother..to the baroness.." Maria whispered, utterly defeated.

The elderly nun paused, taken aback by the unexpected complication.

"I see.. " she eventually murmured, pacing the room slightly. This made things more difficult. In any other circumstances she would've advised that such a commitment should be respected. She would've consoled the heartbroken girl and explained that perhaps it was best she remained at the abbey to carry out God's will in other ways. But there was something about the drastic turn of events that had taken place in the von Trapp household that gave the elderly woman reason to suspect God wasn't quite finished with this particular chapter of Maria's complex book.

She eyed the anguished young woman thoughtfully, choosing her next words with great care, "And do you believe it is God's will that they marry?"

"Does it even matter Reverend Mother?"

The older woman shrugged slightly and offered a knowing smile, "God works in mysterious ways, Maria.."

The words entirely knocked the wind out of Maria as she recalled how Georg had comforted her with the very same sentiment all those weeks ago in their tree as they'd contemplated their futures.

"I fear I don't know _what_ God's will is, Mother.." she whispered.

"Well you must find out," the elderly nun concluded wisely, cupping Maria's tear-stained cheek with a reassuring hand, "you must go back."

* * *

 **A/N: there you have it! Maria will have to confront the Captain and her feelings in the next chapter whether she likes it or not! This chapter focused a lot on both characters being forced to confront their fears by the people they hold dear. I hope you liked it and are still keen to see the story through to the end.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews and for sticking with me through this tale! Some really great points made in some of the reviews, one of my favourites being the observation that you can't force someone to recall lost memories just by asking them to try. Surely it takes more than that.. Something naturally occurring.. A trigger perhaps..**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

It wasn't until she was forcing one foot in front of the other down the lane to the von Trapp villa that Maria truly began to feel sick with apprehension.

The Reverend Mother had told her that she couldn't shut out life's problems. She had to face them. The startling truth in her words - coupled with the comforting knowledge that God wanted her to find the life she was born to live - had filled her with a newfound and exhilarating determination. Until she had stepped off the bus and reality had truly set in.

 _She was going back_. After only five days of much needed reflection behind the solace of the abbey walls, she was returning to discover her fate - willingly walking headfirst into the exquisite flames once again, the addictive pain, the bittersweet torment that his indifference evoked.

She no longer had the guilt of God's disapproval hanging over her but Georg's cold detachment - not to mention his recent engagement - were obstacles she had no idea how to overcome.

Wave after wave of adrenaline coursed through her veins as she preempted the moment she would see him again - the extraordinary riddle of a man who had captured her heart. The perfectly imperfect gentleman who had so much more to offer than he allowed himself to give. The complex individual who greeted the world with a chilly reserve while harbouring real and raw emotion underneath.

Far quicker than she had anticipated, the back gates of the villa came into view and the dreadful anticipation spread like electricity right down to her toes. What would he say when he realised she'd returned? Would he be angry as he always seemed to be these days? Would she be able to stand before him once again, knowing she may never find in his eyes what she so desperately wanted to see?

 _You won't find any of the answers by standing out here in the street_ , she reprimanded herself as she stared up at the iron gates, frozen to the spot as she took in their intimidating glory.

The only thing that willed her to finally grasp the wrought handle and step over the threshold was the thought of seeing the children again. The seven little souls that had been her anchor as much as she'd been theirs. She'd left them for her own selfish reasons and they'd been the biggest victims of this ugly mess, despite their innocence in its creation. She had no idea what to expect on her return but she knew one thing for certain. The children needed love now more than ever before and she prayed that they would welcome her back with open arms.

* * *

Georg was _tired_.

Not only was he physically exhausted after another two nights of troubled sleep, but Max's unexpected confrontation had left him feeling emotionally and mentally drained as well. For once in his meticulously strategised life, he was unsure of how to proceed.

The voice of his stubborn subconscious was willing him to continue on as planned, steering his ship in its predetermined direction and focusing his efforts on the exact future he'd picked out for himself.

But there was another voice. A voice that simply wouldn't allow him to rest. It was a voice that he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge, a voice that hadn't spoken to him in years, a voice he thought he'd buried a long time ago. The voice of reason, the voice of compromise. _The voice of his Agathe_.

 _You've lost your way, Georg my darling_. It echoed around in his mind like an unwelcome taunt, creeping to the forefront whenever he convinced himself that remembering was a fruitless task.

The first time he'd heard it was the night after the Fraulein left, and it had been the very first time he'd truly _wanted_ to remember. Instead of going to the ballroom that night as he sometimes did in his most troubled moments, he had found himself in the governess' room, unsure as to why his feet had led him there. He'd stood, numb, in the centre of the darkened space and closed his eyes - breathing in that familiar scent of lavender and rose. It had stirred him deeply, affecting him physically and emotionally with an unexpected force - and he'd soon taken flight back to his own room, angry and confused by the inappropriateness of his behaviour.

So much had been described to him about what had occurred during the timeframe that he'd blacked out, but it had all sounded like a distant dream, a fictitious anecdote, as if it were about somebody else's life. None of it had stirred any memories, none of it roused his curiosity - he'd been too confused and bitter to truly confront what might have come to pass during that time. He'd wanted to simply block it out, rather than admit that he'd lost his iron control.

He'd been so adamant to simply get on with his life that he'd refused to truly acknowledge what had happened to him - so much so, that the other members of the household now treated it as a taboo subject never to be mentioned in his presence. Only now, with the voice of his late wife ringing in his ears, did he discover that he actually _wanted_ to know about that fateful incident.

"What happened the night of the party.."

Elsa's head snapped up from the book she'd been engrossed in, alarmed by his unexpected question as it pierced the comfortable silence they'd been enjoying in the drawing room.

"Georg.. I.. ," she stumbled over her words uncharacteristically, eventually closing the book and resting her hands in her lap, "I'm not really sure where to begin.."

"Just anything you can remember," he replied quietly, staring into the fireplace.

Elsa took in his slightly bloodshot eyes and distracted demeanour. She wasn't entirely sure she liked where this conversation was going and she contemplated how much she should give away. Since his recovery, she'd been gradually plying him with false memories, harmless little anecdotes about conversations and exchanges between the two of them that hadn't quite taken place in the way she described. Before his attack, he'd changed in a way that hadn't quite worked in her favour and she'd convinced herself it wasn't in her best interests for him to remember what had really come to pass during that time. What harm was there in telling a few white lies to more firmly anchor their future together?

"Well," Elsa began, regaining her composure, "we were halfway through digestifs when you left the room in rather a hurry.. you seemed somewhat.. _Distracted_."

When Georg said nothing and didn't meet her eye, she continued, "after an hour or so you hadn't returned and I couldn't find you anywhere. I think the champagne had gone to my head as I started to suffer a headache and so I retired a little early. It wasn't until the next morning that Max told me you'd been beaten."

She decided to leave out the fact that it was her _jealousy_ , rather than the champagne, that had caused her headache.

"And what did Max tell you?" Georg pressed, a slight frown creasing his features as he willed himself to piece the puzzle together.

"He said that Zeller and three of his men had found you outside and attempted to teach you a lesson.. You know Georg, I really don't know what you expected when you go around voicing your opinion so -"

"What was I doing outside?" Georg interrupted forcefully, anger licking at his insides in response to her insinuations.

"I have no idea Georg," Elsa retorted a little too passionately, knowing full well the little governess had been witness to the entire incident, "as I said, I couldn't find you anywhere."

Georg got to his feet and leant over the fireplace pensively, staring into the empty grate.

" _Georg_ ," Elsa soothed after a charged silence, coming up behind him and gripping his shoulders with delicate hands, "you really must do your best to try and get along with these people - Zeller is a powerful man, he has important connections.. It's foolish to _provoke_ him.."

Her words scratched at his insides like white hot pokers and her hands on his shoulders - meant as a source of comfort - felt more like heavy weights suffocating him. Still he said nothing as he willed his anger to subside.

"I'm sure it was just a big misunderstanding.. After we hold the most lavish social event of the year it'll all be forgotten darling," Elsa trilled, waving a hand dismissively and causing the blood to heat in his veins. Was she actually insinuating that Zeller would be on the guest list?

"You know he's actually quite a charming man," she breezed when he didn't respond, "I think you just.. Got on the wrong side of him. You men," she chuckled, oblivious to his fury, "one too many drinks and it always ends in a brawl!"

Georg could feel his fists clenching as he gritted his teeth to stop the profanities spilling from his lips _. Had he heard her right?_ Did she really believe he'd provoked his own beating by being too vocal about his principles? The very principles on the basis of which he had fought for his homeland? The woman he'd agreed to marry, the woman he would be sharing his life with - was asking him to sympathise with his _Nazi attacker_? It made him feel sick to his stomach.

As if saved from the inevitable argument that was about to ensue, Georg was halted in his dangerous thoughts by a deafening caterwauling of ecstatic children coming from outside.

Still in a silent rage from Elsa's disturbing admissions, he left her without so much as a backward glance and marched furiously toward the source of the noise, ready for battle. He was in no mood for this insufferable din and whoever was causing it was about to meet his wrath.

As he rounded the corner hellbent on silencing the godforsaken ruckus, he almost missed the sight of Fredrich running up the stairs gleefully in the direction of the governess' room, a dusty old carpet bag in one hand and a guitar case in the other.

He froze on the spot, his legs turning to lead.

 _Surely not. It couldn't be._

The sound of his children's excitement seemed muffled in his ears all of a sudden, as if his head was filled with cotton wool, and the floor seemed to cave in around him. He couldn't do this, _not now_. It was all too much. He couldn't think straight, he couldn't determine up from down, he couldn't decide which voice to listen to.

 _Hear what she has to say, Georg._

In his panic, he shook Agathe's voice from his mind and did the only thing he knew how to do. He buried his feelings deep within. Armed with this strategy as his only means of defence, he gathered his composure behind a formidable facade and - exuding a nonchalant confidence he didn't feel - he strode towards the sound of happy chatter.

* * *

Max had somewhat reluctantly agreed to Elsa's request for some time alone with Georg. He wasn't too sure what kind of game she was playing but she'd been rather insistent and it had seemed like a reasonable enough request now that they were engaged. So he'd acquiesced and had spent the better part of an hour nursing a drink on the veranda and watching the melancholy faces of the children as they moped around on the grass - an uneasy reminder of his previous failings.

Feeling troubled again by their gloominess, he was about to take comfort in his third strudel when he was jolted out of his reverie by an eruption of enthusiastic cries and shouts. Pausing with the pastry midway to his mouth, his eyes followed the source of the excitement and he subsequently dropped the treat in surprise when he was greeted by the sight of the Fraulein.

He watched the touching scene, frozen to his chair, as she ran across the grass towards the excited von Trapp stampede - and the din only grew louder when they all collided in a series of fierce embraces.

This was most definitely an unforeseen development. He tugged at his moustache absentmindedly as he contemplated the series of events that was likely to occur now that she'd return. Elsa would be livid. But _Georg_.. Georg was unpredictable these days. During their midnight conversation a few nights ago Max had felt as though he'd managed to get through to his friend somewhat, if only a little. He doubted however, that Georg was anywhere near ready to handle this unexpected twist of fate. It entirely contracted his fastidious plans.

"Uncle Max, look!" came a little voice, rousing him from his thoughts, "it's Fraulein Maria!"

 _Of course, where were his manners?_ He jumped to his feet and came down to the steps to greet her - the poor girl must've already been doubting whether or not she was welcome.

"It's wonderful to see you back Fraulein," he smiled, grasping her dainty hand as the happy children buzzed around them, "just wonderful." And he realised he truly meant it. Whether the sentiment was shared by the raging bull of a man who'd just come into view on the veranda, was an entirely different story.

Georg had lathered himself up into defensive rage and had planned to shout the lot of them into submission the moment he exited the house. But the sight of her made him stop short once he reached the grass. The familiar heat unfurled deep in his stomach and his heart began to pound unwelcomely in his chest, the unshakable sense of deja vu filling him again as her painfully expressive eyes met his. Something significant between them had taken place out here, something he couldn't quite recall... It made him burn all over and he found that his previously rehearsed words were stuck in throat.

Only the gentle chirping of the birds could be heard now as everybody's eyes, bar the absent Friedrich's, fell on him apprehensively in the charged silence. Was it _fear_ he saw in their eyes? Where normally it would've fed his rage, he was met instead with an unfamiliar sense of shame and he didn't like it. He desperately needed to regain control.

The tension was finally broken by the pounding of Freidrich's teenage feet as he bounded back out of the villa, only to stop in his tracks at the sight of his father, the grin faltering from his boyish features.

" _Father_.." He gulped cautiously, edging past him and joining his siblings on the grass, "Fraulein Maria's come back from the abbey.."

"Yes Georg," Max pressed, attempting to mediate the ticking time bomb, "isn't it _wonderful_?"

Maria's pulse thudded in her neck as she waited for him to say something, _anything_. He appeared to be opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, a confused frown etching his features as he battled inwardly with himself. She'd do anything to know what he was thinking.

After an age Georg forced himself to clear his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. He felt drained, defeated, vulnerable once again as he attempted to adopt a formal authority he didn't quite feel. He just wanted to hide with a bottle of scotch, where he wouldn't have to look at those bewitching eyes.

"I'm afraid Friedrich," he replied quietly, "that Fraulein Maria will have to go straight _back_ to the abbey." There. He'd said it. He needed her gone. _It was the only way._

Maria's heart sank as seven little voices were raised in outrage and before she knew it her legs were carrying her towards the house as she fled the scene in an attempt to hide the tears that threatened to fall. Hurrying past his haughty figure, she raced up the stairs in the direction of her old bedroom to gather her belongings. She needed to leave as quickly as was humanly possible. _How could she have misjudged the situation so badly?_ She'd been such a fool yet again.

Georg watched silently as chaos ensued, each one of his children attempting to shout their protests louder than the rest until his skull threatened to crack from the sheer noise.

" _Enough!"_ He shouted, noting the look of utter disapproval in Max's eyes as everyone fell silent. Unable to bear the scrutiny emitted from eight pairs of saddened eyes, he turned on his heels, ready to take flight to his study.

It was only when he reached the veranda steps that he heard a shaky little voice begin to sing.

Fury erupted in his chest as he whirled around to silence whoever dared to defy him, his eyes falling on his youngest son. Kurt had taken a step forward bravely, his boyish chin pointed in determination as he sang the distantly familiar lyrics of a melancholy tune.

 _"What are you doing boy_!" Georg bellowed, charging towards him, unable to bear the emotion the solemn sound evoked -but his son didn't falter, ignoring his father's aggressive outburst and continuing his solo resolutely.

" _Kurt!"_ Max hissed, gripping the boy's shoulder in warning as he noted Georg's face clouding over with a thunderous glare.

"No!" Kurt shouted mid-lyric wriggling free of Max's grasp, his face red with emotion and his little fists bunched at his sides, "mother would've _wanted_ us to sing!"

And with that he continued louder, more defiantly, and Max watched the furious bewilderment crease his friend's face as, one by one, each von Trapp child joined their brother in song, until the wistful lyrics of _The Sound of Music_ rang clear and true in the air around them. Max couldn't help but fix the raging man in front of him with a satisfied smirk as he cottoned on to what the children were doing. Unable to defy their father with rhetoric, they'd instead found their ultimate act of rebellion in the form of _song_.

"I've heard quite enough!" Georg shouted, the wind having been knocked out of him by the mention of their mother. When they didn't stop their musical assault, he took several strides forward to intimidate them into silence but to his utter horror, he was met with a knowing glare from Max who suddenly joined them in their mutinous performance.

He wanted to grab the traitor by the scruff of his neck and slam his body up against the tree behind him - the very same tree where he'd stumbled across Maria's delectable ankle all those weeks ago.

The sudden and unfamiliar memory stopped him dead in his tracks. _Maria's ankle... The tree...hide and seek.._

The flashback was suddenly clear as day in his subconscious, as if he were watching a reel play out in front of him. His heart began to race as the puzzle piece slowly slotted into place. _He had stood in this very spot right before discovering his governess in her hiding place.. he'd spent the afternoon hidden up in the tree with her.._

His children's soulful voices still echoed around him and his blood ran cold as he began to remember why their song was so familiar... _They'd sung this for Elsa on their return from Vienna.. Right after their boat had capsized.. It had reminded him of Agathe..._

With the lyrics still ringing in his ears, he'd barely been able to catch his breath before a flood of repressed memories began to flash through his head like snapshots through time. His heated argument with the Fraulein by the lake, his children's performance in the drawing room, his humbled apology, his rendition of Edelweiss when she'd worn that captivating blue dress, the joyful innocence of the puppet show, the glitz and glamour of the party, the heat of her body pressed against him during the Laendler, his declaration of love before everything went black...

 _Music, laughter, passion, joy, heartache_ , it all came rushing back to him with a burst of tenderness so forceful he thought he might sink to his knees.

"My _God_ ," he whispered. _Was it too late?_..

Without so much as a second thought, he frantically grabbed a bewildered Kurt's face between his hands and placed a grateful kiss on top of the startled boy's head. _His son_. His courageous, clever, _incorrigible_ son!

"Don't go away!" He begged his beautiful children, hurriedly stroking each of their perplexed faces before turning on his heels and sprinting towards the house.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry to stop it here but it seemed like a natural place to break the story! Bless sweet little Kurt for standing up to his formidable father - I hope you didn't think it too far fetched or romanticised but I think Georg needed some sort of emotional trigger to finally remind him - and what better trigger than the sound of his children's voices raised in song, ey? Next update just as quickly I promise!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: a little shorter this time as it stretches out over one scene, but I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Having escaped to the sanctuary of her old bedroom, Maria willed herself to sit on the edge of the bed and catch her breath, lest her legs should buckle beneath her. She was utterly humiliated. Not because of his contempt, not because of his nonchalance - but because of the _pity_ she'd seen in his eyes. She would've happily faced his disdain, his anger, his wrath, ten times over if it meant she never had to see him looking at her like that again. _As if she was a confused child. As if she was a naive fool._

Angrily, she bit back her tears with deep gasps, clutching at her chest in her despair. _No!_ The headstrong voice within her declared _, no - you will not shed one more tear for that bitter, twisted man!_

He was beyond repair, beyond help - he delighted in pushing those who cared about him away until he had nothing but his own isolation for comfort. When she'd believed her feelings to be sinful she'd accepted the Captain's cruelty on the basis that she'd thought it was God's punishment - she had held herself solely accountable. But as it turned out, God _hadn't_ been punishing her and so she could no longer excuse Georg's appalling behaviour. Since his injuries, he'd become even more disagreeable, even more arrogant, even more despondent than when she'd first met him - he seemed to revel in it! And she found that her anger, her blame, now shifted away from herself and in the direction of the impossible man she'd come to love.

He was _insufferable!_ Conceited, aloof, incorrigible, tyrannical, pig-headed, narrow-minded.. The list went on and on in her head until her sense of defeat had faded and was replaced by a dangerous mixture of outrage and resentment. It bubbled in the pit of her stomach like a caged beast, lurking under the surface just as it had done before both of the lakeside confrontations. Who did he think he was, dictating the lives of those around him as though they were mere puppets and he the mighty puppeteer? She fancied telling the intolerable fool that he'd be a natural performing the _Lonely Goatherd_ , what with all the manipulating of lowly figures on strings. But he wouldn't have the faintest idea what her denigrating remarks were about. He couldn't even _remember_ the puppet show.

She snorted with derision and rolled her eyes from the irony. No - no longer would she mope and fall into despair because of this complex, difficult, stirring human being. God wanted to challenge her? Well, _challenge accepted_. She would give the captain a final piece of her mind before her departure and she would take the greatest pleasure in it! To wipe that infuriating smirk from his smug face one last time would be her greatest triumph.

Gathering her resolve and feeding her fury with a fierce determination she began to pace the room, hellbent on giving him a taste of his own medicine. First, she would tell him that, contrary to his arrogant opinion, he had absolutely _no_ control over her - he thrived on the illusion of control and she knew it would knock him down a peg or two. Second, she would berate him for his inability to behave like a gentleman of his standing - if he thought he exuded the charm of an aristocrat, he was sadly deluded. Third, she would fight one last time for his children and chastise him for his unacceptable indifference towards them. Fourth, she would tell him that his deep blue eyes absolutely did _NOT_ still her beating heart... The arguments gathered in her mind like ammunition, each one having been spoken aloud at some point in the past, only to have been forgotten in the wake of the Captain's amnesia. But no matter - she was darn well ready to let him have it all over again.

"Pompous.. Formidable.. _Insufferable.."_ She muttered to herself incoherently as her pacing quickened. He was absolutely impossible, he was obstinate, he was condescending, he was unforgiving, he was... _He was standing right there in the doorway_!

Her heart stilled with unrelenting dread as she spotted him, and she felt the blood drain from her face. _How long had he been standing there?! What had he heard?!_

To her bewilderment his chest was heaving and his breath was ragged, his eyes burning into her with such a fierce intensity that she forgot where she was or why she was there. Had he come in search of battle? To denigrate her for daring to return? He looked agitated and she braced herself for the tirade of anger that was likely to erupt between them. Gathering what little resolve she could muster she stuck her chin out resolutely and willed herself to have the first word.

" _You don't control me_.." She murmured pathetically. She had meant it to come out boldly, defiantly, a heated delivery that would pull the world out from underneath him.. but the argument fell flat on her lips, the look in his eyes making it entirely impossible to think straight. Did he always have to look so wickedly handsome? It stole the air from her lungs and made it all the more difficult to remember her previously well structured arguments.

"I doubt I ever did Fraulein," he replied, his voice low and dangerous as he took a step inside the room, never taking his eyes from hers.

She tried again, her pulse thudding at her throat, "you.. You have behaved in a most ungentlemanly manner.."

"This coming from the most ladylike _tree climber_ I've ever come across.." He retorted with mirth, taking another step closer. The meaningful reference and the playful gleam in his eye was entirely lost on her as she mistook his teasing for ridicule and the previously extinguished fury sparked to life in her chest.

"No!" She snapped, her fists balling, "no more of this! You may not want to hear about your failings but you'll hear them from me nonetheless! You take such pleasure in deriding everyone around you, including those wonderful children that you entirely neglect! They've done nothing to deserve your contempt! They were happy once but you seem intent on dragging them into your misery. They want nothing more than to love you," She cried, "but you just won't _let them_!"

Georg opened his mouth to tell her that she had his undivided attention, that of course she was _right_ yet again, that she was entirely extraordinary and he'd do anything to earn her forgiveness... That he'd _remembered_ \- but his tempestuous little Fraulein cut him off and continued her passionate monologue with reckless abandon.

He watched, speechless, utterly transfixed. When she was singing and smiling and dancing she was truly beautiful.. But when she was angry? By God she was _breathtaking_. The heat in her expression, the rise and fall of her chest against the material of her dress, the passionate determination emanating from her.. It stirred the primal need deep within him once again, only this time instead of shoving it aside, he found he relished it. Weeks of repressed longing, desire, need unfurled fiercely low in his belly and his loins burned as he watched her in all her furious glory, her angry blush completely impossible to ignore as it crept towards the neckline of her dress irresistibly. _He wanted to trace its path with his lips.._

The wind was knocked out of him by the simple thought of what it would be like to finally touch her and _remember_ it - but she deserved to say her piece without interruption for once. He owed her that much.

Mesmerised, he allowed her words to wash over him and the possessive compulsion he felt burning him all over was matched with a tenderness just as fierce. He knew his eyes, his _body_ , were betraying his thoughts but for once he made no attempt to hide it and his worthy opponent was too absorbed in her speech to notice. _How could he have forgotten what he'd shared with this extraordinary woman?_

Attempting to ignore his overwhelming longing for her, he willed himself to pay attention to her speech.

"... answering to that damned whistle! We are not dogs or cats or any other type of animal for that matter - we are _people_! Despite your unfathomable inability to differentiate between the two!"

She was ranting now, having worked herself up into an adorable rage.

"And.. And you are in no way _charming_ despite your exceedingly high opinion of yourself!" She fumed.

He smirked, " _Anything else_?" He responded coolly, his eyes burning a hole in her.

"Yes!" She seethed, her heart hammering, "aside from your foul temper and ridiculously uncouth outbursts, you are completely incapable of displaying any real emotion!"

"As always, we'll have to agree to disagree Fraulein.." he replied dangerously.

She scoffed at his arrogant response, "And why's that?!"

"Because _I love you_ , my darling."

His shocking declaration rooted her to the floor and tore the air from her lungs, the room suddenly pulsing with a new and dangerous mixture of desire, fear, hurt and anguish. An intense heat threatened to buckle her knees, coursing through her body as she finally dared to look upon his face. What she saw there stilled her pounding heart - Georg, _her_ Georg staring back at her, chest heaving and fingers twitching in that endearing way she'd come to love - and with such a burning fire in his eyes that it made her dizzy with longing. _He remembered._

And before she could catch her breath, before she could fight for the oxygen she so desperately needed, before she could determine up from down, he was charging across the room fervently, wrapping his strong arms around her and capturing her lips with his own in a fierce rush of love and hunger.

She couldn't contain her sob of relief as lips and tongues crashed together frantically and her insides turned to liquid fire. Their hands gripped at one another's bodies desperately, clinging to each other as though they were afraid it wasn't real. Her mind screamed for her to stop, to push him away in her anger - but her heart.. _Oh her heart_.

All reason left her head as a firm hand caressed her jaw, her neck, and the other gripped her lower back, anchoring her to him and leaving her ragged with need. Every excruciating inch of his powerful body, all skin and muscle and _man_ , was pressed against her, possessing her in a way that left her feeling utterly fulfilled and yet somehow bereft. It wasn't enough.. It would never be enough.

" _Georg.."_ She broke for air, incapable of coherency.

"Forgive me my love, _please forgive me_ ," he gasped desperately against her swollen lips again and again, peppering her face and neck with frantic kisses, each one followed by whispered words of adoration before he met her lips again.

Their bodies drifted towards the armoire behind her until her back made contact with it surface, enveloped in Georg's protective warmth as he tasted the delectable skin of her neck, revelling in the pulse he found thundering there.

 _How she must've suffered at his hand_ , how he wanted to sink to his knees and beg her for mercy - but she tasted too good, her sighs were too distracting, her body too responsive to his own, and it made the blood rush rapidly south, making it impossible to think. She made him feel alive where only hours ago he'd felt utterly lost.

Biting back a moan as her nimble hands ran up his chest, he willed himself to stop, to give her air - to let her contemplate what was happening between them. But he simply couldn't stop. He could hardly believe he was allowed to touch her and he acted selfishly, giving in to his impulse and the overwhelming need to have her close. He owed her an explanation, a more profound apology.. He owed her his _heart_. But the repressed longing, the intense emotion he hadn't felt in weeks - it was too much for him to bear. _Just a few kisses more_ , he reasoned with himself, _a few caresses more_...

The stubborn woman within her wanted to tell him off, to push him away - but she couldn't help herself, there was an ache deep within her and he was the only remedy. His sharp intakes of breath made her heart flutter and his hands drew dangerously close to her breasts, making the skin around them tighten with a need she'd never felt before. Quiet, incoherent whispers were spoken against skin and silent promises were shared in the way their heated eyes met between feverish kisses.

She chastised herself as her body seemed to do the exact opposite of what her mind willed it do, her hands fisting into knots in his hair, allowing his words of adoration to engulf her. _Later_.. _She would give him a piece of her mind later._

It wasn't until the distant and familiar sound of the children's voices were heard coming up the stairs that they were finally brought to their senses. He broke their kiss reluctantly but their bodies remained entwined, as they shared a ragged breath in the aftermath of their passion. His eyes burned into her own, conveying everything that words couldn't, until the risk of being caught became too great and he slipped slowly from her grasp.

Silently they shared a stare that made the heat unfurl in her stomach as they held their breath, waiting and praying for the children's voices to subside and the danger to pass. Eventually their little voices were heard retreating towards the nursery and her heart jumped to her throat in anticipation as she preempted the moment he'd pin her against the armoire again and resume their frenzied reunion.

He stepped towards her then, ready to devour her swollen lips over and over, until a voice stopped him dead in his tracks, making his blood run cold.

"Georg darling, _here_ you are!" Elsa trilled in the open doorway, "what _on earth_ are you doing in he... _Oh_.."

Georg watched, dread unfolding in his chest as Elsa's eyes fell on Maria, her shock evident.

" _Fraulein Maria_.. You've returned.." Her voice was icy... dangerous, and Georg looked to Maria, desperately willing her to understand that despite appearances, he was hers and hers alone.

In his desperation to get to her in time, he'd completely forgotten about the potential consequences of his actions as his need had escalated out of control. And he felt his heart break as Maria's eyes met his, her face contorted in anguish - an unspoken understanding hanging palpably between them that a betrayal had taken place. Here she stood before him, accepting that her path in life had changed, accepting that they'd fallen in love, wearing her heart on her sleeve for him - and yet he'd treated her abhorrently while promising his heart to another.

Mustering what little self respect she had left, Maria turned to the baroness and forced herself to appear unperturbed, "yes baroness," she murmured quietly, praying that her body didn't betray her inner turmoil, "though only until arrangements can be made for another governess.."

And with that, she fixed Georg with one last heartbreaking look that made him want to fall to the floor, before leaving him alone with the fiancé he did not love.


	14. Chapter 14

_"Yes baroness," Maria murmured quietly, praying that her body didn't betray her inner turmoil, "though only until arrangements can be made for another governess.."_

 _And with that, she fixed Georg with one last heartbreaking look that made him want to fall to the floor, before leaving him alone with the fiance he did not love._

"Is it _true_ Georg darling?" Elsa whirled round to face him, attempting to conceal her alarm.

"Yes, I suppose it's true, yes," Georg replied distractedly, willing his body to calm itself in the wake of Maria's heated caresses. He wanted nothing more than to go after her, to explain himself, to finish what he'd to recklessly started. But Elsa was subtly blocking his exit.

"Well I must say I'm a little _surprised_..," Elsa trailed off, mock concern etching her elegant features.. "I mean... oh never mind."

"What..?" Georg pressed, his eyes narrowing.

"Nothing.. It's nothing..."

It was that infernal 'nothing' again, he was absolutely sick of hearing it, "tell me," he demanded, his patience waning.

She eyed him apprehensively before the impassioned words burst from her.

"Oh _Georg_ , I wasn't going to say anything but now that she's returned so unexpectedly there's something I think you must know.." She gushed emphatically, "I know you don't recall the night of the party and I didn't want to alarm you, or expose the Fraulein for that matter.. She is young and naive after all.. She didn't know what she was getting into.. I thought I was protecting her by keeping it to myself.."

"Get to the point Elsa," Georg replied through gritted teeth. He had a suspicious feeling that her apparent concern for Maria had little to do with the young woman's wellbeing and everything to do with her own selfish motives.

"The night of the party, the governess got very _friendly_ with Herr Zeller, dancing, conversing, for quite a lot of the evening," Elsa lied through her teeth with effortless ease, surprised by her own ability to spin such a tale on the spot. But desperate times called for desperate measures, "I believe he charmed her.. Did I not say he was a very charming man? If I didn't know any better I might've even called their exchanges flirtatious.."

If Elsa's aim had been to shock him, it had worked - but not for the reasons she'd hoped. Of course, she was entirely oblivious to the fact that he'd regained his memory and that he knew full well Maria hadn't even _attended_ the party. She was trying, Georg realised with disgust, to use his amnesia to her advantage - trying desperately to grapple a stronghold on what she believed was rightfully hers as she watched him slip from her grasp. On and on her lies went, rendering him speechless with anger as the blood began to pound in his ears.

"Zeller was asking after your whereabouts when nobody could find you," Elsa continued, oblivious to his face turning to stone, "and the girl said something about knowing _exactly_ where you might be.."

She bit her lip in a worrisome expression, "oh Georg, she led Zeller straight to you darling! God only knows if she was aware of his intentions but it seems she did nothing to stop him once she realised."

Her barefaced lies left him seething with unrelenting rage. He was about to let her have it, to shout until the walls rattled, to enlighten her to the fact that he could recall every last detail of the party and that he saw right through her vicious fabrication - but an intense headache had begun to thump across his skull, the stress of the last hour beginning to take its toll. Still, he willed himself to push on - he needed to put an end to this right now, before he allowed this woman's manipulation to cause any further damage.

" _Elsa._." His voice was low and dangerous, loaded with unspoken implications, but she interrupted him before he had a chance to say what so desperately needed to be said.

"Don't be _too_ hard on her Georg darling, please. I'm sure she meant no harm," she pouted, choosing to ignore his icy tone.

" _Elsa_ ," he tried again, the headache making it difficult to focus, "there's something else we need to discuss.."

Sensing the rapidly escalating danger of the situation, Elsa employed a rather more drastic tactic to avoid Georg's imminent speech. Flashing a smile and resuming her breezy air of indifference, she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. It took everything he had not to recoil in disgust.

"Georg, I'd love nothing more than to talk with you darling but I actually came to find you to tell you there's an urgent matter I must attend to back in Vienna.. "

He sighed in defeat, rubbing a frustrated hand across his forehead as the headache began to worsen into a migraine, colourful spots beginning to pepper his line of vision. Why couldn't she just shut up and let him say his piece? It was as though she knew what was coming and she was doing everything in her power to put off the inevitable.

"I'll be gone three days at most," she stated, "We can talk properly on my return, darling I promise."

"Can't it wait Elsa, I very much need to speak with you now," she didn't volunteer any information about her 'urgent matter' and at that particular point in time he couldn't care less what it was about. The pain in his head was becoming impossible to ignore and was suddenly accompanied by a bout of dizziness as he attempted to focus on the task at hand.

" _Later,_ darling, _later_ ," She cooed, watching him stumble backwards slightly and take a shaky seat on the bed behind him, "I've already packed and will need to leave imminently, I'm afraid it really can't be postponed. But I will return in three days as I said." She gave him a wry smile and began to retreat from the room, spotting her opportunity to escape. He didn't need to know what her plans were in Vienna.. He would find out soon enough.

" _Elsa.._ " He tried pitifully, as the migraine rattled around in his skull. He needed to lie down..

"We'll talk in three days darling," she replied more firmly, her voice sounding muffled against the pounding in his head, before she quickly slipped from the room.

Exhausted and utterly defeated, Georg flopped back on the bed with a groan, desperate to rest his eyes. Just for a moment. Just until he could think straight. Just until the headache subsided. And then he would fix this Godawful mess.

* * *

When he finally awoke with a jolt, his headache having passed, Georg was perplexed to find that dusk had fallen and the room was cast in shadow. How long had he been asleep? It must've been at least a few hours!

As he rubbed his eyes and willed his brain to switch on, apprehension suddenly dawned on him as he remembered what had come to pass that very afternoon.

 _Maria!_

He sat bolt upright, panicked by the thought of where she might be. As his eyes adjusted to the semi darkness he suddenly noticed her carpet bag and guitar case still tucked away in the corner and he breathed a sigh of relief. He inhaled deeply to ease the thudding in his chest and was met with that heady combination of lavender and roses. A fresh wave of the scent enveloped him, leaving him deeply stirred as he remembered the taste of her tongue in his mouth, the swell of her breasts heaving against his shirt, the impossibly arousing sensation of her innocent sighs against his lips.. Only to stop short when he recalled the look of betrayal in her eyes once they'd been discovered.

He realised, as his looked down at his awakening body, that someone had removed his shoes for him while he'd slept. _She must've been in here._

Hurrying from the bed and slipping his shoes back on, he rushed from the room in search not only of his Fraulein, but his children as well. He may not have had a chance to talk to Elsa properly but he still owed Maria an explanation. And he owed his beautiful brood a long overdue apology.

He dashed down the stairs and almost bowled over an unsuspecting Max in his haste.

"Ooof," Max exclaimed as Georg's form collided with his own on one of the steps, knocking the air out of his lungs.

"I'm sorry old man," Georg said sheepishly, helping his friend straighten up, "not quite as limber as we used to be!"

"Speak for yourself, I'm as fit as fiddle!" Max rasped, rubbing his ribs emphatically, "just where are you so eager to get to?"

Georg didn't have time to explain that he was in a desperate hurry to find the governess, that he'd accidentally lost himself to his feelings and pinned her against her armoire in a fierce act of lustful passion. He didn't have time to explain that he'd come to his senses and needed to tell his seven little miracles that he loved them with all his heart.

"Max, where are the children?" He asked hurriedly.

"The drawing room.." Max replied, narrowing his eyes, "the governess is with them..."

Georg met his friend's eye cautiously, suddenly feeling as though he were under intense scrutiny.

"And where's Elsa?" Georg asked, attempting to appear casual.

"She left about an hour ago for an urgent matter in Vienna, did she not tell you?" Max's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Yes, but she didn't explain to me what it was about.."

"Nor me," Max retorted, "though, who knows.. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you were otherwise preoccupied ravishing your children's governess?"

"Wh... What?" Georg stammered, his stomach churning and his eyebrows lost to his hairline as they shot up in alarm.

"Oh _please_ Georg," Max rolled his eyes, exasperated, "you're hardly a young Casanova - did you think you were _subtle_? You practically chased the girl up the stairs and neither of you were seen for the better part of an hour," he smirked, "it wasn't until I saw Elsa slinking up to find you that I noticed the pink faced Fraulein finally emerging, uncharacteristically mussed and _guilty as sin_..." His smirk broadened, "the delicious _irony_ of it Georg.. A sinful postulant."

A knowing smile crossed his features and Georg felt very much like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Do you think Elsa knows?" He choked.

"For God sake Georg, I suspect even _Gretl_ knows!" Max snorted, "As I said, you've hardly been subtle."

Georg frowned slightly. If his feelings for Maria had been so obvious, even when he'd been stubbornly oblivious to them, why had Elsa not confronted him?

"She's never said a word.."

"I should think not." Max nodded curtly, "why on earth would Elsa want to draw her fiancés attention to his sordid obsession with the governess?"

"It's not sordid!" Georg snapped, scowling.

"I'm sure if her bedroom walls had eyes, they would argue differently," Max quipped wickedly.

Georg let the comment slide and cleared his throat uncomfortably, "well now that I have your attention my friend, I'd be most grateful if you'd accompany me to the drawing room.. I have a few things I'd like to say to everybody, you included."

Max looked at him curiously but nodded, gesturing for Georg to lead the way.

* * *

The children's company that afternoon had given Maria some much needed solace, allowing her to try and forget the way that Georg's touch had burned a fiery path across her skin during their earlier encounter. Never in her life had she experienced such an intense flurry of physical sensations - every vein had thundered, every nerve had sparked, every inch of exposed skin had rippled with goosebumps as his muscular body, _all of his body_ , had possessed hers. She had been reduced to a desperate woman in his arms, coming dangerously close to forgetting all sense of time, place, reason or decorum.. She had never imagined that being with a man, in any sense of the word, could be so utterly exhilerating. She could still _taste_ him, the subtle mix of peppermint and man, could still feel his light stubble against her jaw - and she gave an involuntary shudder as she felt the ghost of his previous touches skate across her breasts. She had felt protected, loved, cherished, desired.. until the Baroness had interrupted them and she was enlightened to the fact that, much to her horror, Georg was still very much engaged.

When he'd raced across the room and whipped her into a lustful embrace, Maria had stupidly assumed that the Baroness was no longer in the picture. Somewhere in the back of her love-drunk mind, she had assumed the Baroness must've returned to Vienna while she'd been at the abbey - for surely Georg wouldn't be pinning her against her armoire and gasping words of adoration against her swollen lips if he were still engaged. But much to her dismay, she had been wrong. Perhaps he wanted a mistress and had assumed she was more than willing - after all, had she not fallen into his arms like a wanton harlot? Regardless of what was to become of her, Maria knew in those moments that she most definitely would never be a nun. How could she possibly consider a life of seclusion and chastity after discovering what a man could do to her body?

When the Baroness had almost caught them, Maria had considered fleeing again. What good was it to stay if, even after regaining his memory, he remained committed to another? But she hadn't been able to leave the children again. When she'd first returned, it had been Georg who had insisted on her imminent departure and so she'd had no choice but to acquiesce to his request - but now that Georg had made it clear he wanted her to stay, a hasty departure would be her _own_ selfish choice - a choice that would break the children's hearts again. And so she vowed to stick to her word - she would stay until arrangements could be made for another governess.

Not half an hour after having been discovered with her employer in her bedroom, Maria was surprised to find the Baroness had made a sudden exit. She wondered what had come to pass after she'd left Georg alone with his fiance and when he didn't show up for dinner, her curiosity got the better of her. It didn't take her long to find him, bizarrely sprawled on his back, on _her_ bed no less, sound asleep. He looked so vulnerable, so childlike with his arms thrown above his head, so adorably unlike the powerful aristocrat, that she had felt an overwhelming rush of tenderness despite everything that had come to pass between them. She had wondered, with a sudden sense of dread as she gently removed his shoes, whether it had been a lustful encounter with the baroness that had exhausted him into slumber. But she rapidly extricated the thought from her mind, the unwelcome image too painful to bear. Not having the heart to wake him and fearing what she might have to confront if she did, she left him to sleep peacefully.

Maria was torn from her troubled reverie by the very man she'd been thinking of as he entered the drawing room, Max following closely behind him.

A rope seemed to tie itself around her lungs suddenly and she found she couldn't meet his eyes, the memory of their previous encounter causing her face to burn hot in his presence.

The children, who had been sprawled on their bellies on the floor in the middle of a board game, had scrambled to their feet and resumed a straight line.

Georg's heart broke as he watched the fear cross his children's innocent faces. How could he have let this happen a second time? They had been subjected to his indifference for four years and had forgiven him without question, welcoming him with open arms - only to be subjected to his neglect all over again when he'd forgotten. Their bravery in confronting him earlier that day filled him with a fierce sense of pride. How _courageous_ they were, how intelligent they were - how headstrong, brilliant, compassionate they were. _They're all your little creations, Agathe darling,_ he smiled to himself.

Silently he approached the line up, aware of Maria's gaze following him across the room. He willed himself to forget those beautiful eyes just for a moment - all that mattered right now were his babies.

Crouching down in front of them, he looked upon each of their apprehensive faces, Louisa and Friedrich so startlingly like their mother - Brigitta, Leisl and Marta not unlike himself. Kurt and Gretl, a stirring mixture of the both of them. _Oh how he adored them._

"You know.." He started softly, never taking his eyes off each of them, "there was once a boisterous sea Captain who met a beautiful princess... He loved her with all his heart, so much so, that they had seven beautiful children together.." He watched his brood exchange uncertain glances, unsure of what to make of his bizarre tale and sudden change of character.

"One fateful day, God took the princess from the sea captain and his heart was broken. _So_ broken, that it changed him for the worse. No longer could he see the beauty in the world, no longer could he appreciate how blessed he was," dawning understanding had begun to grace the features of his older children, while the little ones listened on, transfixed.

"That is, until he heard his children singing the princess's favourite song..."

Leisl grinned at him in her understanding and his heart swelled as she nodded encouragingly, willing him to continue.

"Now, it seems this particular sea captain was a little _clumsy_ because he allowed a nasty knock to the head to make him forget.."

Marta gasped adorably as the puzzle pieces slotted together in her little head. Georg grinned as a rush of tenderness filled his body.

"That is, until his _incorrigible_ young son sang that very same song," he stroked an affectionate hand down Kurt's reddening cheek, "and the stubborn sea captain remembered just how much he loved each and everyone of his _beautiful_ children."

A charged silence hung between them as seven pairs of eyes scrutinised him suspiciously, but the tension was broken by an adorable Gretl who's face was scrunched up in confusion.

"I don't get it!" she stamped her foot impatiently and her six siblings fell about laughing.

"He _remembers_ , silly!" Kurt cried, as they all flung their arms around their father at once, causing his knees to buckle beneath him. Before he knew it he was sprawled on his back most uncouthly, with an avalanche of happy children anchoring him to the floor. He realised in those moments, as his belly ached with laughter and his children's innocent voices filled the gaps in his aching heart, that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

* * *

That night, Georg lay in bed shrouded by a deep sense of peace that he hadn't felt since the very first day he'd heard his children singing all those weeks ago. How blessed he was to earn their forgiveness a second time. It was, and would forever be, more than he deserved.

After they'd bombarded him with fierce hugs in the drawing room earlier that evening, he had asked them all to take a seat so that he could explain, in terms they would understand, just how severely the amnesia had affected him. It was important that they knew, he'd thought, they needed to understand that he hadn't been of sound mind. And he needed Max and Maria to understand it too. He had behaved appallingly and he took full responsibility for his actions - but he needed them to comprehend the severe extent of his confusion, his denial, his fear..

He'd asked Maria to join him in his study then, so that he would finally have the chance to say everything that was still left unsaid. But she had politely refused, reassuring him through quiet whispers that tonight was reserved for his children and his children alone. That they needed him.

He had agreed reluctantly, desperate to tell her again how much he loved her, how much he longed for her. But all he could manage in the company of Max and his children was a whispered plea, a simple, singular word that held so much meaning.

"S _tay._ "

He had risked running a solitary finger down her arm then, unnoticed by the rest of the room - and she had nodded, reassuring him that she would still be here in the morning if he only promised tonight to his children. She had looked utterly breathtaking, almost ethereal as she'd insisted he put his brood first and it did nothing but deepen his longing for her. _In the morning.. He would talk to her in the morning._

A restful sleep eventually claimed him as he dreamt of a ship slowly turning back onto its rightful course. He awoke with the sun just as peacefully the next morning and stretched lazily across the bed as the first rays of light cast hopeful beams across the room. He leant over to the bedside cabinet and turned on his radio, as was his habit when he woke up earlier than the rest of the house.

September 6, 1938 - a morning he would never forget for the rest of his life. He listened to the presenter across the crackly wire as a cold, unrelenting dread turned his full heart to stone.

 _The Anschluss had come._

* * *

 **A/N: completely understand the actual Anschluss occurred on March 12 1938 but, since Maria was at the von Trapp villa during summer time, you'll have to excuse my alteration of the dates. It's necessary in order to fit the story. I hope you liked this chapter - lots still to come!**


	15. Chapter 15

_The Anschluss had come._

Impossible. _It couldn't be true._

Georg felt as though his knotted stomach had dropped into his feet, as though his lungs were filling with tar, as though the Swastika itself was cutting great gashes in his heart.

He lay there motionless, numb, unable to comprehend the gravity of the news as the radio presenter's words echoed distantly around him. There had been rumours of an annexation ever since the Austrian Nazi Party had gained popularity and there had been increasing threats and violence made by Hitler to enforce a union between Germany and Austria. But Georg had held out hope that his country would not fail it's people. Chancellor Schuschnigg had called for a referendum on the issue, giving the public a chance to vote to maintain independence. But only a few days ago, by Hitler's demand, the referendum had been cancelled and Schuschnigg had resigned, giving the Nazi Austrian Interior Minister, Seyss-Inquart, the opportunity to call for German help in restoring order.

And now his beautiful Austria, the country for which he'd fought so fiercely, the country in which he'd raised his seven children, the country for which he held the deepest and most passionate patriotic love - this country was to be engulfed into the decimated cocoon of a madman's regime. And it suddenly hit him with painful and alarming clarity, like a jackhammer to the stomach, like a knife to the heart: his homeland was no more.

A despair like none he'd ever experienced began to seep into his veins, spreading throughout his body like poison, threatening to engulf him. He knew in those moments that there was only one person in the world he wanted to see. And he knew exactly where he would find her.

Scrambling from bed and dressing quickly, the sun barely having risen, he hurried downstairs, knowing exactly where he needed to go. Save for a few of the staff who rose at dawn, the house was silent, peaceful, as if it were just any other ordinary day. As if there was no imminent threat of the Army of the German Wehrmacht marching into their country at any moment. As if there was no imminent threat of warfare.

Franz greeted him with a curt nod in the hall and in his hurry, Georg missed the butler's outstretched hand offering him the morning's post.

"Sir," he called after Georg who whirled around impatiently.

"Yes Franz?"

"A telegram for you, Captain," the butler held it out to him and Georg grabbed it quickly with a hurried thank you before Franz dismissed himself.

Scanning the contents of the telegram hurriedly, Georg's mouth went dry and he found himself frozen to the spot, the bile rising in his throat. One word in particular seemed to jump right off the paper over and over again, forcing his blood to boil in his veins.

 **Bremerhaven.**

 _It made no sense_. Not one hour into the reported Anschluss and he'd already received a call to duty from the Navy of the Third Reich? How was that even possible? There was no way a telegram would arrive so quickly.

He suddenly realised, with dawning dismay, that the telegram would most likely have been sent days ago - the Fuhrer had quite clearly known for weeks, if not months, that the Anshcluss was going to take place. The negotiations, the referendum, the call to restore order - it had all been nothing more than a sham. The Fuhrer had always planned to invade right from the get-go. And, in preempting his success, he had already planned ahead to secure the immediate recruitment of former Austro-Hungarian servicemen - before any of them would have a chance to refuse him. Not only was the Nazi a madman, he was also extremely intelligent. A potentially fatal combination.

Scrunching the piece of paper up in his fist, it took Georg only a few moments to decide his entire future. His _family's_ future. It was a decision that was clearer to him than any he'd ever made in his life. He knew exactly what he needed to do, and his determination in achieving it was the only thing stopping him from falling into despair.

With all the resolve he could muster, he resumed his previous course and made his way outside towards the lake, allowing the warmth of the rising sun to caress his skin as it kissed the surface of the water.

It didn't take him long to find her, in that very same spot they'd so often shared. Her supple legs dangled from the branch above him and her face was etched with a worrisome frown that did nothing to hinder her breathtaking beauty. She didn't seem at all surprised to see him - if anything she looked relieved, as though comforted by his presence, as though she'd known he would come to find her here.

"It's happened.." She whispered matter-of-factly, staring down at him with such compassion, such understanding, that he suddenly didn't feel so utterly alone.

"It's happened." He repeated, unable to keep the sadness from his voice.

She gazed down at him with such melancholy acceptance in her features, her wide eyes exposing so much of her heart, that it left him completely breathless. In his grief, he found that the primal need to be close to her, to be intimate with her as a source of comfort, roared to life in his gut once again. How easy it would be to seek solace in each other's bodies, to numb the pain of their uncertain futures with nothing but their entwined limbs for security. How easy it would be to blur the lines between the emotional and physical realms, to seek exquisite relief in each other's bare skin, to forget the terror of the world around them in their passion. How magnificent it would be to go beyond the here and now, to lead each other into the flames in an uncertain world and anchor each other with the only thing that _was_ certain: their love, their desire for one another.

 _"Maria.._ " it came out as a whispered plea. He had so much to say and yet the urge to wrap her in a heated embrace, to lose himself in her body, to taste and touch and kiss her until he could forget what was happening around him, was almost too much to bear.

Praying he wouldn't allow her proximity to deter him from his plans, he climbed into his reserved spot next to her on the branch and stared out onto the lake as the birds chirped blissfully beyond the water. It was so beautiful, so serene, so peaceful, that he found his words were lodged in his throat, the thought of what he needed to say causing the turmoil to rise within.

She looked upon his face patiently, knowing she couldn't possibly understand the depth of the grief this stoic, brave man would be feeling for the loss of his homeland. He looked defeated, broken, enraged by what was unfolding in front of his very eyes. Eventually he spoke, his voice shaking slightly as he tried to remain passive.

"I've been requested to join the Navy of the Third Reich at Bremerhaven," he stated, his eyes darkening with a dangerous anger, refusing to meet her gaze lest he should show too much emotion, "I'll need to answer the telegram soon, or they will come for me."

Where any other woman would've sobbed, become hysterical, lost her composure, his extraordinary Maria simply nodded solemnly and reached for his hand to comfort him. The warmth of her touch sent a hot wave of electricity through his body and he was deeply moved that, despite everything he'd put her through, despite everything that still needed to be explained, she was content simply to be the bulwark he so desperately needed.

Against his own better judgement he couldn't help but bring her dainty hand to his mouth, running his lips across the back of it lightly and taking comfort in the softness he found there. She was an angel, a gift, a blessing he had never deserved. He needed to tell her his plans, he needed to think clearly and explain everything that had, and would, come to pass. But he felt her shudder against him, heard her sharp intake of breath, and he felt his resolve slipping dangerously, his heart in his throat.

Still, he would not give in to his desires when so much was still at stake. He desperately needed her to _understand_. Taking a calming breath and pulling her hand from his lips reluctantly, stroking it with his thumb, he willed himself to look at her.

"Maria," he murmured tenderly, "I have behaved utterly abhorrently towards you, both while suffering from amnesia and while of sound mind. You have brought us more than I could have ever imagined and I have absolutely no right to ask you for anything. But in light of what has come to pass these last few weeks, I humbly ask of you one last request."

She nodded slowly, her cheeks growing pink under his stare.

"My request is that you hear everything I have to say," he continued, absentmindedly running his fingertips featherlight over her wrist, "and that once you've heard it, you decide which life you believe you were born to live."

She nodded again, her eyes wide and her breathing slightly ragged under his ministrations. His proximity left her speechless, the liquid fire unfurling in her stomach as his fingertips seared her skin, reminding her of how they'd felt on her neck, her jaw, her collarbone, his body taught from the strain of their passion when he'd pinned her with his strength. She wondered whether he would again give in to the intense heat that was slowly beginning to boil between them, and she watched transfixed, as his gaze fell to her parted lips. But still he continued his impassioned speech and she willed herself to listen, to pay attention in light of the shocking news that had been delivered that very morning.

"The simple truth of it is my family and I will need to leave Austria. And this house. Within a matter of days. A week at most," he breathed forlornly, fighting the primal urge to bite at her lower lip as he had done against the armoire, "to join the Nazis would be unthinkable. To refuse them would be fatal to all of us."

She said nothing, only listening intently and tightening her grip on his hand. He felt his heart swell at the gesture.

"But I cannot leave while my family is incomplete," he whispered, giving in to the longing he felt and running his shaking fingers down her satin cheek, listening to her breath hitch deliciously in her throat, "For too long I wallowed in my grief. For too long I pushed the world away. For too long I forgot what it was like to _feel_. Until you came along and sat on that ridiculous pine cone, my love."

Maria's heart had begun to thunder against her ribcage, the combination of his words and his intimate touch wrecking havoc on her body. She knew she should feel nothing but sadness and regret for what was happening to their country. But he was setting her on fire with only the slightest contact and it left her entirely unable to focus on anything but the blood pounding in her ears and the deep ache rippling through her stomach.

"I believe it was in this very spot that I first told you I wanted you, _only_ you, and _always_ you," he continued in a low whisper, his eyes boring into her own, "There has never been more truth in that statement than at this very moment, my darling. I have loved you from the very beginning."

Maria felt as though she had simply forgotten how to breathe.

"Horrendous circumstances may have caused me to lose my way," he murmured, "but even in my most isolated moments I found myself aching for you in a way I didn't understand. I forgot this beautiful thing that exists between us and for that I'm truly sorry. But the fact of the matter is, you have stolen my heart, Maria, wholly and completely."

Where before it had been a struggle to breathe, Maria found that her entire body was suddenly aflame with unrelenting longing. How could this beautifully complex man entirely unhinge her with words and words alone?

"My family will always be incomplete unless _you_ are by my side," he whispered, his eyes conveying a heady mix of desire, respect and love that entirely knocked the wind out of her, "I want you to come away with us... I _ask_ you to come away with us."

He heard her whimper of surprise, saw her face fill with bewilderment as the gravity of his request hit her with full force. He saw her eyes darken with something stirring, something irresistibly dangerous. But he willed himself to finish.

"I will be breaking off my engagement the minute Elsa returns. I want to share this uncertain life with you, to start a new one elsewhere. To raise our seven children in peace and happiness and have more babies if God sees fit. I want you by my side, on my arm, in my bed, in my heart - as my wife. Only you, _always_ you my darling Maria."

He had resigned himself to concluding his speech with a chaste kiss on the back of her hand, to give her a chance to reflect on the earth-changing things he had told her. But before he'd had a chance to catch his breath, before he'd managed to regain some level of control, she'd lunged toward him on the branch and covered his lips with her own, her sweet tongue running deliciously across his bottom lip until he found himself succumbing to the possessive urges that tore through his body. With a growl he couldn't contain, he allowed himself to get utterly lost in her body, to numb his pain in the woman he loved. He pulled her closer, gasping words of adoration against her lips, gripping her by the waist until her every curve left him almost unbearably aroused. Decorum be damned, he picked up where he'd left off in her bedroom, only this time his hands didn't stop at her ribcage. His pulse racing, his fingertips danced down the exposed skin of her neck, down her collarbone, lower - until her breasts were heaving in his hands through the material of her dress, her ragged pants against his lips leaving him dizzy with need. He found his frustrations, his fear, his heartache, had all found a new outlet in his primal desires for this woman and he allowed himself to entirely drown in her, body and soul.

Maria couldn't determine up from down as she felt every nerve in her body fire with a desire she didn't fully understand. She desperately needed something but she didn't quite know what it was - all she knew was the sensations this strong, stoic man was evoking deep within her. All she could feel was his heated mouth on hers, and his hands on her breasts were causing the skin around them to tighten with need where they longed to be freed and caressed by those heated lips. In light of the morning's terrible news, in light of their uncertain futures, she found her inhibitions slipping from her grasp, causing her to cling to this strong, assertive man with a desperate need, as though he were her only lifeline, as though swallowing his ragged moans was her only means of oxygen.

With a boldness she hardly dared to acknowledge, she found herself wanting to touch him in forbidden places the very same way that he was touching her. She wanted to illicit in him the kind of frenzied need that left her feeling so loved, desired and cherished. She wanted to offer comfort with her body, an unspoken, raw and beautiful gift that would belong to him and him alone. Wanting to show him that she would be his in a heartbeat if he needed her, she ran a gentle hand featherlight up his thigh until her fingers brushed the place where he strained against his trousers.

Georg couldn't contain the guttural moan that tore from his throat at her unexpected contact. He felt his entire body stiffen, his hips jerking dangerously into her touch - and he realised with a jolt of panic that if he didn't rapidly regain control of the situation it wouldn't be long until he was in her hand, all sense of reason entirely lost. The warmth of her hand spread from their source all the way through his body, setting him on fire. They had allowed themselves to get carried away in their passion as a source of comfort, an outlet - something bold and beautiful and true that they could cling onto in a world full of ugliness. A few moments more - one or two more forbidden caresses by her hand in that place that so boldly betrayed his intense arousal - and then he would restore order.

When he felt her hand more firmly against him, he reluctantly broke their kiss and grasped her wandering hand in his own, fighting for the air she so often stole from his lungs.

" _Maria._." He choked, desperately trying to regain control of his frenzied urges, "as amazing as is this, we digress darling.."

She gave him an adorably sheepish smile that set his heart alight before edging away from him and giving them the space they needed to reflect on all that had been said.

"Was that a yes?" He asked, fearing her answer, "or was it a goodbye?"

She sighed deeply, pensively - her beautiful lips still utterly tantalising in their swollen state.

"I can't deny I will miss Austria if I leave it," she reflected sadly, "but it seems the Austria we know and love will soon be no more."

He nodded solemnly.

"I think it's clear to me now that the life of a nun is not the path that was intended for me.." They shared a wry smile, the evidence of their heated exchange still very much present on their bodies.

"But most importantly is the simple fact that I love you too," she murmured, gripping his hand tighter, "because I do Georg, of course I do. And I love those wonderful children. I lost you once to that horrific amnesia. I'm not willing to lose you again."

She watched the relief wash over his face as he released the breathe he'd been holding, the dimples showing in full force as a grin spread across his handsome features. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips then, as though sealing an unspoken pact between two lost souls.

"I need to answer the telegram," he stated after a while, his eyes darkening, "I will need to tell them that I accept. I'll get my affairs in order and then we must flee."

"Where will we go?"

"We'll start with Switzerland and we'll go from there," he explained, kissing her again, "We can marry once we've crossed the border and reached somewhere safe."

He stroked her cheek, his eyes conveying everything that words couldn't. She deserved a proper proposal, a real courtship, a perfect wedding that left her feeling all the love in the world. But in light of the horrendous circumstances, it was a blessing to simply have each other. Her hand enveloped his against her face. _She understood._

"Get the children together," he explained, "don't say anything that's going to worry them, just get them ready over the next few days."

"What about the baroness?"

Georg's face turned to stone and his eyes darkened with suppressed anger. He hadn't forgotten Elsa and her manipulative ploy. And now that he'd finally settled the affairs of his heart, the plans for his future - he had the time he needed to settle a few _other_ affairs. One of which involved a particularly repugnant Nazi rat.

"Leave the baroness to me."

She didn't question him further and instead settled into the crook of his arm as they gazed out over the lake from the safety of their leafy cocoon, watching the sun greet the sky. It was disturbingly beautiful, peaceful, moving - a stirring reminder of every cherished memory. Leisl's first steps. Friedrich's first swim. Agathe's love of the water. Maria's upturned boat incident. That infernal whistle. The curtains for play clothes. Edelweiss. Their heated arguments. Their meaningful exchanges. Every happy occasion. Every significant event. Everything that would be lost to the Nazis. Nothing would be the same from this moment forward and the challenges to come would be grave and difficult. How they would miss this simple pleasure, in the tree in which it had all truly begun.

Interrupting their solemn reflections, Georg pulled away from her and jumped down from the branch, scanning the ground as though looking for something.

"What on earth are you doing?" She asked, disgruntled by the loss of his presence.

"Ah," he stated satisfactorily as he bent down a picked up a jagged rock before joining her on the branch.

"What's that for?"

Adorably he gave her a playful grin before taking the sharp end of the rock to the tree trunk next to him, etching something into the bark. She strained to get a glimpse over his shoulder, baffled by his absurd behaviour. When he finally moved back to show her his masterpiece she felt her heart flutter, blown away by the startling simplicity of what she saw. To any other onlooker it would be nothing more than a childish marking, but to Maria, it was a symbol of innocence, a representation of better times, a mark of sorrow for all that had come to pass, a seal of hope for all that was still to come.

 _"M+G"_

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you liked this update and that I did their reunion justice! Still lots of loose ends to tie up so I don't see this story ending just yet! Quite a few more chapters to go so I hope you all still want to stay with me! Thank you so much for all the reviews so far I never tire of reading them.**


	16. Chapter 16

Three days had passed since Georg had so adorably marked their tree with their initials and Nazi soldiers were already swarming throughout the country. There had already been mass arrests across the nation as thousands of Austrians had been caught trying to escape their homeland and the public humiliation of Viennese Jews had already begun, as well as a large concentration camp having been quickly established at Mauthhausen-Gusen, already rumoured to be cruel and barbaric.

The citizens of Austria were very much divided between those who, like Georg, were heartbroken and angered by the news and those who welcomed Hitler with open arms, waving and cheering and celebrating his arrival. The Fuhrer had made a speech in Vienna shortly after the Anschluss had been announced and, much to Georg's dismay, 200,000 cheering Austrian's had gathered at Heldenplatz to celebrate him. Maria had secretly wondered whether the Baroness had been one of them. Georg had called them all cowardly traitors and sent his radio flying across the room.

During the speech, Hitler had announced "the entry of his homeland into the German Reich", asserting that the Nazis came to Austria "not as tyrants, but as liberators."

And the viciousness of these outright lies, the devastating blow of this particular reality, the unfathomable deterioration of his beloved country, had darkened Georg's mood almost to the point that Maria feared he'd reverted back to his old ways, adopting the impenetrable mask once again.

That is, until he got her _alone._

During the rare moments that they were unaccompanied, he would suddenly pull her close possessively by the waist or push her up against the nearest piece of furniture to find his comfort, to find a physical release for his frustrations. He would bury his face in her hair and inhale deeply, exploring her exposed skin with bold, loving fingertips and tasting her wherever her clothes left her uncovered. She began to realise, with a dark rush of anticipation, that this was his way of forgetting, of losing himself in her and temporarily distancing himself from the harshness of reality. She was his escape, and he was acting on need rather than logic, responding to a primal physical instinct that required no thinking.

He would lick gently at her mouth until she succumbed to the overwhelming sensations, parting her lips to his insistent tongue and opening her body to him until they were both breathless with need. If he was particularly saddened or angered by a fresh wave of reports on the radio, his advances would be just that bit more assertive, just that bit more desperate, and she found that it thrilled her to her core. These encounters were often wordless, frenzied, heated and utterly exhilarating. And with them came a newfound boldness in Maria, a burning curiosity to explore what was happening to her body, and she found herself selfishly seeking out her brooding Captain in the hopes that he would be in one of his dangerous moods - his only solace being to seek her affection, to possess her body again, eliciting the fire within.

But, much to her frustration, these thrilling exchanges were often over before they'd even begun, the threat of being discovered or the risk of compromising her virtue causing him to slip away from her, his eyes blazing with lust and adoration - leaving her aching for him in a way she hadn't experienced before. Though she was somewhat naive when it came to men she had a feeling that, despite the seeming lack of restraint in Georg's advances, he was still very much holding back. He was reining in his desires, preventing himself from losing all control because he loved her deeply and didn't want to frighten her. And it left her tingling with anticipation to think that she might hold the key to eventually unlocking the powerful passion that she could see in his darkened eyes whenever they were alone.

As she made her way to his study that morning she told herself it was to update him on her success with getting the children ready for their swift departure. But deep down she knew better. Deep down she knew that she was hoping for another secretive, frantic display of need. She couldn't help herself, he was consuming her from the inside and she found she was helpless to stop it.

Her heart began to pound as she knocked on the door and after hearing permission to enter, she popped her head in to find her Captain bent over some paperwork behind his desk. He wore reading glasses that looked so distinguished on his handsome face that her stomach jolted with unexpected delight.

"Ah, Fraulein Maria," he removed his glasses and greeted her with forced formality lest she was accompanied.

"It's okay," she replied, slipping into the room and closing the door, "the children are outside with Max."

His eyes blackened dangerously, burning a hole in her trembling body as he slowly stepped out from behind his desk.

" _Good."_ The solitary word came out thick and laced with lust on his lips, his steely gaze never leaving her face. The intensity of his stare caused the raw fire to unfurl in her stomach as he moved towards her, his face set in stone as he closed the distance between them. Her heart soared and her pulse thundered when his body made contact with hers, pinning her roughly against the door from shoulder to toe, his mouth descending on her neck in a rush of heat.

His tongue swept over her bare skin hungrily, his light stubble etching a path across her neck, and he groaned in relief against her, his hands forming a defiant path from her waist to her breasts.

"Nazi soldiers hung the flag of the Third Reich outside our home this morning," he growled, nipping at her throat and pushing his hips more firmly into her own.

It was all the explanation she required. He was upset, he was angry, and he needed her. Burning all over in anticipation, she took his face in her hands and brought his lips to her mouth, revelling in her own boldness as she was rewarded by his sharp intake of breath. He made the most of her flagrant invitation, biting at her lower lip dangerously until she opened up to him, his tongue curling against her own and causing her knees to give way as he gave an unrepressed moan.

She could feel the evidence of his arousal already pressed against her and she was reminded of how it had felt under her brief touch in their tree. She found herself imagining what it might look like if he exposed it to her, and she blushed deeply as an ache dispersed low in her stomach at the thought.

His hands were everywhere and she could hardly catch her breath but past encounters had taught her that the inevitable moment would soon come when he would stop his advances and she would be left again bereft. She knew they had much to plan, they had far more urgent things to be thinking about - but she wanted to shamefully savour every moment of his addictive caresses before he slipped from her grasp.

Abruptly and without warning, as if he'd heard her thoughts, he broke their frenzied kiss and pulled his body away from hers, his chest heaving and his eyes black with a mix of uninhibited desire and guilt. Unable to trust her legs to support her when he was looking at her that way, she remained leaning against the door, gasping for air and mourning the sudden loss of his touch.

 _"Maria.."_ He choked, his voice husky with primal need as he watched her fight for air through her swollen lips, her breasts heaving against her dress in her attempts to breathe through her arousal.

"Forgive me my love," he murmured, his inward battle evident in his eyes and his body rigid with frustration, "I shouldn't."

 _"But..."_ She looked at him, crestfallen, unable to verbalise that he absolutely _should_. She didn't know how to put into words how much she craved him, for fear that it was somehow improper. What would he think of her if she were to _ask_ for his advances, to beg for his touch, his love? Surely it was inappropriate for her to act in such a way.

"But what Maria?" He smirked playfully.

She looked at him, desperate to come up with some words, anything, that would reignite their previous passions. But all she managed to stutter was -

"What... What did you do about the Swastika...outside.."

She hadn't _consciously_ intended to bate him, to darken his mood once again - but when her words caused the smirk to disappear from his face and his eyes to cloud over with the same dangerous heat as before, she found that she was shamelessly thrilled by the sudden change in atmosphere - knowing that he was about to lose control all over again.

Like a man possessed, he closed the gap between them in a single step but, instead of kissing her as she'd anticipated, he spun her round so that she was facing the door, nuzzling into the crook of her shoulder and biting possessively at the pulse he found thundering there.

 _"I tore it to shreds,"_ he hissed, knocking the breath out of her as she felt his fingers making quick work of the buttons on her dress, his lips lighting a path to her shoulder blades where the material parted.

"What.. What are you doing?" she gasped, her raspy voice sounding completely alien to her as she splayed her fingers against the door in front of her for support. _Everything was on fire._

"Tell me to stop darling, _we need to stop,_ " he growled against her skin, his hands flying further down the row of buttons and invading the gap in the material where the bare flesh of her waist was exposed. But she couldn't tell him to stop, she _wouldn't_ tell him to stop. She would surely _die_ if they stopped.

Instead all she managed was a moan that caused him to grip her hips firmly and push his body flush against hers.

At her lack of protest, he found himself losing his last bit of resolve, utterly desperate to be as close as was humanly possible to the woman he loved, the woman who brightened his heart in a world full of darkness. Primal instinct took over as he turned her back round to face him, surprised to find her lunging for his lips before he'd even had a chance to catch a breath. Utterly lost to her ministrations, he was barely aware of his mutinous hands tugging the material of her dress down her shoulders, allowing it to pool around her waist. It was only when he heard Maria's cry of surprise that he realised he'd lost control and had frantically shoved the cups of her bra aside, freeing her untouched breasts.

He felt an overwhelming tug in his groin as he drank in the sight of her naked torso, and watched as her skin tightened under his forbidden touch. It was _this_ \- this heady, intense, beautiful, dangerous, overwhelming connection between them that made him feel as though he could let go, as though he could allow himself to be nothing more than a man in his rawest form. As though he could forget the grief.

She pulled him back into a frantic kiss, lost to her instinct and panting into his mouth. He knew he should stop, he knew he was most likely overwhelming her. But the beast within, the need for her that went beyond the physical, the misery that could be cured only by her - he found it almost too much to bare. And before he knew it, before he could stop himself, he was sinking to his knees and his mouth was descending upon her, suckling at her nipple like a starved animal and causing a strangled cry to tear from her lungs.

As he tasted her there for the first time, her fingers threading into his hair and pulling his mouth closer, he realised with a sudden and startling guilt that if he didn't put an end to this rapidly escalating encounter then it would be too late. A few more minutes and all reason would be lost, a few more caresses and he'd be taking her virtue against the bookcase. And for that, he would never forgive himself.

On his knees before her, he eventually slowed his exploring lips and stilled his movements, reducing the violent boil to a simmer as he rested his forehead in the valley between her breasts so that he could catch his breath. The tight grip of her fingers in his hair eventually loosened and she began to stroke his head comfortingly instead, understanding his sudden change in behaviour without any need for explanation. It was painfully clear to her that he was simply after her support, her reassurance and, while it was his instinct to seek these things out through sexual intimacy, he wasn't willing to compromise her for the sake of his own selfish needs.

Their breathing eventually slowed and the comfortable silence enveloped them as he clung to her like a vulnerable child, his eyes closed against her chest as her innocent caresses calmed the storm raging within his restless soul. After a few minutes he looked up at her, his saddened eyes conveying the guilt he couldn't speak of, and she found herself bending to kiss him chastely, a reassurance that he'd done nothing wrong.

"I love you," he whispered, eventually pulling himself up into a standing position and helping her re-dress herself, "I'm sorry I keep behaving this way.. I just.."

She put a finger to his lips to silence him, needing him to understand his guilt was entirely unfounded, "I'm entirely yours darling, please don't ever feel sorry for showing me."

She wasn't yet ready to tell him that the thought of giving herself to him completely left her dizzy with longing.

"I actually came to tell you that the children are ready," she turned to find him pouring himself a stiff drink.

"What did you tell them?" He asked, taking a large gulp of the amber liquid to calm himself.

"I told the truth," she explained simply, giving a shrug, "I said we needed to leave because of the Anschluss. They're more observant than we give them credit for," she kissed him gently again.

"What did you tell them about _us?_ " He cocked an eyebrow suggestively, wrapping an arm around her.

She swatted at his shoulder playfully, "I merely told them I'd be helping with the trip. The little ones seemed to think it perfectly sensible that their governess would need to come along, and the older ones knew better than to ask questions," she told him, "I'm convinced Leisl has worked it out but we'll tell them all once we're in Switzerland, like we agreed."

He nodded, hardly believing his luck that, despite all the turmoil in the world, he'd been given Maria as his anchor.

#######################

Not twenty minutes after Maria had left his study, there was another knock at Georg's door and he looked up in bewilderment, half expecting to see the very same visitor coming back for more. He'd seen the way her eyes had burned with an uninhibited passion and he didn't trust himself to resist her for a second time. He hadn't anticipated her eager curiosity, hadn't foreseen the ferocious energy she now unleashed when in his arms, and it had left him utterly floored.

"Come in," he called apprehensively, but he was met with an odd combination of relief and disappointment when it was only Max who stepped over the threshold.

"Ah, Max," he smiled warmly, feeling genuinely glad to see his oldest friend. He feared he'd somewhat neglected the impresario over the last week or so, having been wrapped up in his secretive relationship with Maria and then busy with preparations for their upcoming escape. He hadn't yet told Max of his plans to leave the country, or who with - and he felt a surge of guilt when he realised a stiff formality seemed to have developed between the two of them over the last few days, as though his friend knew somehow that Georg was keeping something important from him.

"I won't beat around the bush Georg," his friend stated uncomfortably, clasping his hands behind his back and avoiding his gaze, "Elsa has returned."

The flames of fury erupted so suddenly in Georg's insides that he thought he might break his knuckles against the closest object. He gritted his teeth to prevent the obscenities from gushing past his lips when he thought back to how she'd so easily manipulated him, lied to him.

" _Where,"_ he hissed, the word seeping out like poison.

"The drawing room..."

Without so much as another word of acknowledgement towards his friend, Georg launched from his seat and stormed for the door, shoving past a baffled Max who whirled around in bewilderment before snapping to attention and rushing after him.

"Georg, wait!" Max spluttered, hot on his heels, "wait, there's something you must know first!"

His friend ignored him and continued his purposeful march towards the source of his rage, the epitome of a man on a mission.

"For God sake Georg, _slow down!_ "

But still Georg refused to listen, his stubborn anger forcing one reckless foot in front of the other until he reached the drawing room, poised and ready for battle.

"Elsa!" he barked, discovering the pristine blonde in the corner of the large room with her back to him, staring into the fireplace.

She whirled around to face him, her breezy smile only feeding his fury.

"Georg darling, I told you I'd be back before you even knew I was gone!" she batted her eyelids coquettishly, sashaying towards him, "did you miss me?"

"We need to talk," he demanded coldly, ignoring her over-friendly advances as his fists balled at his sides.

" _Indeed we do,_ Captain."

Much to Georg's surprise it wasn't Elsa's voice that spoke this time, but a deeper, much courser voice that came from the other side of the room - a voice he was sure he recognised. With dread uncoiling in his stomach, his head jerked in the direction of the liquor cabinet to identify the voice's owner, praying that his ears had deceived him.

As his eyes fell on the previously overlooked visitor, Georg was suddenly grateful that Max had appeared by his side because he needed to reach out and grip his friend's shoulder to prevent himself from thundering across the room towards the unexpected guest in a fit of blinding, violent rage.

 _"I tried to warn you,_ " Max hissed in his ear as the unwelcome visitor dropped an ice cube lazily into his drink with deliberate emphasis before turning to greet them, a self-satisfied smirk etching across his rat-like features.

 _Zeller._

 **A/N I hope you all liked this new chapter! thanks so much for all the reviews so far. I never tire of hearing what you all think, it's your kind words that keep me writing!**


	17. Chapter 17

Zeller's smirk curled into a malicious grin as Georg's face thundered with unrelenting rage. His iron grip clutched at Max's shoulder so hard that the impresario thought it was about to pop out of its socket. Knowing what his friend was capable of when his infamous temper got the better of him, Max placed an apprehensive hand on Georg's back, silently warning him not to lose his head when there were women and children in the vicinity. The impenetrable silence enveloped the atmosphere like a disease, the intensity of the anger emanating from the difference corners of the room trapping the parties in a suffocating vacuum.

"I believe the lady asked you a question, Captain," Zeller smirked provocatively breaking the silence, "did you miss her?"

" _What the hell are you doing here._." Georg growled, Max's grip tightening on his jacket as he attempted to wrench away from his friend and lunge closer to his enemy.

" _Georg_!" Max hissed, subtly pulling him back before he had the chance to do something reckless. It simply wouldn't do to attack a Nazi officer mere days after an annexation that many people considered to have taken place peacefully. God only knew what the Nazis were capable of but Max was certain he didn't want to find out right here in the drawing room.

Georg was using every ounce of his willpower not to fly across the room and throttle the Nazi bastard who stood so unwelcome in his home, and if it hadn't been for Max's influence, he would surely have a murder on his hands. He'd killed hundreds of men in battle when his duty had called for it, but never in anger, never for retribution - and he imagined in this case that it would be particularly satisfying to wrap his hands around the Nazi rat's scrawny little neck until the bones broke under his fingers.

"Well, that's hardly a gracious welcome now is it," Zeller tutted with mock offence, taking a leisurely swig of Georg's whisky, "I thought you said he would be reasonable Elsa?"

The Baroness's perfectly made-up face suddenly betrayed a flicker of nervousness as all eyes fell on her, but she soon recovered, patting her coifed hair absent-mindedly and fixing her features with an aristocratic smile.

"Georg _darling_ , I thought perhaps it was time we all put this little misunderstanding behind us," she trilled, ignorant to the imminent danger written across his livid features, "as I said to you before, it's important that everyone _gets along_ these days. And Wolfgang agreed to discuss it with me -"

"You mean to say," Georg interrupted viciously, taking an intimidating step towards her, "that _this_ \- meeting up with the man who attacked me in my own home - _this_ is what your business was in Vienna?!"

The words seeped dangerously from his mouth like a bitter curse, his teeth gritted against the abject horror unfurling in his stomach. He realised, with dread, that it had been Elsa's plan all along to stage some kind of deluded reconciliation between himself and his Nazi attacker. The utter absurdity of it, the presumptuous insolence behind her potentially catastrophic actions, it caused the bile to rise in his throat.

"Well it's not like I could've _told you_ darling!" Elsa tittered, amused, "you're stubborn enough as it is, I knew you wouldn't see reason if I suggested a meeting - even though it's quite clearly in everybody's best interests."

"Quite right Elsa," Zeller chimed in, taking several steps closer, "in times like these it seems futile to hold grudges with your fellow countrymen."

"Precisely, Wolfgang," Elsa smiled in agreement, "I knew I had a better chance of convincing you this way Georg. Surely you can put male pride aside in times like these."

"Elsa. Don't.." Max warned, watching the vein in Georg's head thunder against his skull, his friend quite clearly rendered speechless in his fury.

"I wouldn't speak like that to the lady if I were you, Detweiler," Zeller snapped unexpectedly, "she has one or two friends in high places."

Elsa smiled sheepishly, avoiding Georg's blackened stare, "only the ones you introduced me to during the Fuhrer's speech in Heldenplatz, I'd hardly call them friends just yet."

Georg felt sick. How could he possibly have misread this woman so badly? He'd either been entirely blind or entirely lost when he'd allowed her into his life. When he'd first met her, she had seemed like a graceful, diplomatic woman of experience - in many way she had brought some meaning back into his life and been his saviour. But he must've been so consumed by the grief that followed after his wife's death that he'd been completely ignorant to the kind of person that Elsa Shraeder really was. Manipulative, greedy, possessive and easily influenced by money and power.

"You make me _sick,_ " Georg snarled through gritted teeth, directing his insult at Zeller despite the fact that it held equally true for Elsa.

Before the stunned baroness or Nazi rat had a chance to retort, the palpable tension was pierced by the innocent pattering of little feet as an excitable Marta and Gretl appeared in the doorway.

"Father, uncle Max.. guess what!" Both girls cried simultaneously, running to their father with oblivious excitement. It was only when their eyes fell on the intimidating man standing a few feet away that they stopped dead in their tracks, their happy little faces falling in fear as they slunk timidly behind their father's legs in hiding - their previous intentions completely forgotten.

"What have we here?" Zeller cooed sickeningly, never taking his venomous eyes off Georg's as he took several threatening steps closer.

"Such beautiful daughters, Captain," he sneered suggestively, "I remember them from the party, of course." He was close enough now that Georg would be able to reach out and break his jaw with very little effort if he tried. Still, he kept his cool, unwilling to reduce himself to Zeller's level of barbarianism, especially in front of his girls. He squared up to his enemy assertively, like a lion protecting its cubs. But he was suddenly frozen to the spot in outrage when the rat reached down to where a trembling Marta clung to her father's leg and ran a solidarity finger down the child's cheek painstakingly slowly, his eyes filled with a depraved mirth as he watched her squirm.

Flames of unrelenting, protective rage exploded in Georg's chest and without warning he lunged forward, grabbing an unsuspecting Zeller by the throat and slamming his body against the nearby wall, pinning him by the neck with surprising strength. He heard Elsa's shriek of surprise, heard Max usher quickly for his children to take shelter behind him, and the blood pounded in his ears as he glared into the deadened eyes of the man who'd fallen victim to his tightening grip.

"Do not think for _one minute_ that I won't kill you without a second thought if you even _think_ of touching my children again!" he spat, mere millimetres from Zeller's reddening face. He was closing his fist around the man's throat with alarming force, lost to his unyielding hatred, lost to his need for retribution. This Nazi scumbag had very nearly killed him and had come very close to ruining what little life he had left once he'd awoken. He had nearly robbed Georg's children of their only remaining parent, he'd nearly broken the heart of the woman Georg loved. And as the anger, the hurt, the turmoil, the bitterness rose in his chest like a bitter venom, he realised he was entirely ready to end this man's life.

It was only when his beautiful Maria, his anchor, his heart, his _lifeblood_ , suddenly appeared in the doorway - her face utterly crestfallen with fear as her eyes fell on the scene in front of her - that he loosened his grip on Zeller's throat, her calming presence bringing him gradually to his senses.

Slowly he released his unwelcome guest, straightening his tie and stepping away from him as the whole room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He wondered briefly whether Zeller would retaliate but without his henchmen, the rat knew he was at a significant disadvantage. In the corner of his eye, Georg noticed Maria taking the opportunity to hurry over to Max to rescue the frightened little ones and he was met with a tender wave of gratitude that this extraordinary woman was a part of his life.

"You should take more care to treat your comrades with respect Captain," Zeller sneered, "especially since we shall be fighting for the same cause."

Georg's eyes narrowed, "How did you know -"

"That you'd accepted the Fuhrer's commission offer?" Zeller interrupted, his delight evident, "I make it my business to know _everything about everyone_."

"Well in that case you'll be aware of the deal I've made with your beloved Furher," Georg retorted casually.

Zeller's eyes became slits as he glared at Georg in confusion, but he said nothing, the tiniest glimpse of alarm flashing across his rigid features.

"I answered the telegram accepting my post, but on one condition," Georg explained with satisfaction, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

Zeller laughed coldly, "what makes you think you have any influence in negotiations with Herr Hitler?"

"The Navy of the Third Reich is in desperate need of U-boats in light of the threat of warfare, and Hitler, quite flatteringly, believes I'm the sole man for the job," Georg reported lazily, enjoying Zeller's obvious discomfort, "He's of the impression that I'm invaluable to his cause. So I've accepted his offer on one condition," He paced slowly in front of his enemy, taking great satisfaction in the Nazi's growing anxiety.

"I have accepted on the basis that you, Herr Zeller, will be stripped of your post, stripped of your rank, stripped of your livelihood, and imprisoned for your vicious crimes against myself and my family."

It was true - Georg had answered the Fuhrer's telegram in the affirmative, as he and Maria had discussed. And in doing so, he'd used his invaluable skills as a bargaining chip to negotiate Zeller's imminent arrest. Zeller was useful to Hitler, but Georg's years of U-boat experience made him indispensable. He had informed the Third Reich that he refused to work for a cause that employed a man who'd attacked him in cold blood inside the walls of his own home - and so they had granted his request.

Of course, the Furher had no idea that Georg planned to flee the country before he was called to duty, but by the time Hitler realised he'd been duped, the von Trapp family would hopefully be out of harm's way. Once the Furher realised Georg had deserted, he would most likely call for Zeller's immediate release - but if the rumours about Hitler's unpredictable temper were true, Georg was almost certain he'd be looking for someone to blame. With any luck, the buck would stop at Zeller, who's apparent negligence in monitoring Georg's activity would be enough to render him blameworthy for the von Trapp's escape. Maybe, just maybe, Zeller would rot in prison a little longer.

"Impossible!" Zeller barked uncertainly, a mix of fear and anger etching into his reddening features.

"Well I'm positively _baffled_ that neither of you have been informed," Georg replied with mock surprise, looking from Zeller to a bewildered Elsa, "given the fact that you have so many... _friends in high places._."

Maria had been watching this heated exchange from her place beside Max in the corner of the room, hugging the little ones to her body tightly. No one had dared move lest it should lead to another blow between the two men. As she watched Georg deliver the devastating news to a wild-eyed Zeller, she couldn't help but feel a fierce sense of pride for the man she loved. He could easily have pummelled the Nazi rat to a pulp, he could've squeezed the last breath from his throat - but he was an intelligent, honourable man who refused to endanger his family by stooping to Zeller's violent level. Instead, he had used cunning, intellect and strategy to strip Zeller of all the things that the Nazi had nearly robbed from him. Where Georg's prison had been a psychological one, Zeller's would be very much physical - separated from his family, his post and everything else he held dear.

"Well I wouldn't worry," Georg cooed with mirth, "I believe you'll be informed later today. I was told your arrest would be imminent."

"Oh _Georg,_ come now is this really necessary?" Elsa's nonchalant tone interrupted the exchange, causing the blood to boil in his veins.

He rounded on her faster than a starving jaguar on a gazelle, "as for _you_ ," he snarled, "I couldn't care less who your friends are - but there is one thing I can tell you for damn certain - you have absolutely _no_ friends here!" She looked entirely baffled, as though completely oblivious to her involvement in this godawful mess. She looked to Max for help but much to Georg's satisfaction he avoided her gaze, entirely unwilling to defend her.

"Georg, all I ever tried to do was _help_ , darling!" She cried, "can't you at least be grateful for that?"

" _Grateful?_!" Georg barked, invading her personal space dangerously as a thundering scowl creased his forehead, "You manipulated my condition to suit your own benefit!" He watched the shock creep over her face as she realised she'd been exposed, "not only that, you negotiated my reconciliation with Nazi's and brought my attacker back into my home!"

The room buzzed with a heated silence as Elsa Shraeder was left, for once, entirely lost for words.

"Get out, the both of you," Georg demanded, his voice low and dangerous, "I hope to never see you again."

Nobody moved and the vein thundering against Georg's skull threatened to break through the skin.

"I said GET OUT!"

The room shook with the force of his demand and Zeller eventually took a crestfallen Elsa by the arm to lead her from the room.

"Mark my words Captain," Zeller hissed, squaring up to Georg as he passed, his face so close that Georg could see every pock mark, every capillary under the skin, "you'll pay for this. You _all_ will."

When they finally left the room, Georg's shoulders sagged in relief and he rushed straight to his little girls, wrapping them in his arms and whispering words of reassurance into their hair. They clung to him, a little shaken but otherwise fine. Eventually he stood, meeting Maria's eye - and he found so much love, so much adoration, so much pride in her gaze, that he was suddenly left utterly breathless. He wanted her desperately, he wanted her whispered words of adoration in his ear, he wanted to feel her pulse thundering underneath his lips, he wanted to feel her bare silken skin under his fingertips. But all he could offer was a grateful smile, a silent acknowledgement that they had overcome the first hurdle together. That they would overcome all future hurdles by each other's sides.

"Where are the other children?" He whispered, wanting to ensure their safety.

"With cook in the kitchens," she murmured, "we were baking cakes to take their mind off.. Well, _everything._ "

He nodded and eventually broke their heated gaze, turning to Max and reaching out to grip the impresario's hand in an appreciative shake, "I think it's about time I gave you a few long overdue explanations my friend."

Max smirked playfully, patting the back of his friends hand in a display of affection as he gripped it in his own, "I'm all ears old man."

 **A/N: so finally we're rid of Zeller and Elsa! I wanted to update quickly because of the cliffhanger so thanks for your patience. I think it would've been far too easy to allow Georg to just beat Zeller to a pulp - our honourable Captain is better than that! Also just a quick side note, anything I write about the Third Reich/The Anchluss has been researched beforehand so should be fairly accurate. It's only the dates and timeline that I've altered for the story. I hope you liked this update!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N Quite a long chapter this time so apologies in advance!**

* * *

It was only after Maria had insisted for the third time that she and the children were perfectly okay, that Georg finally relented, retiring to his study with Max for a much needed discussion.

The adrenaline from the confrontation with Zeller was still coursing through his veins and if he was honest with himself, Georg wanted nothing more than to get Maria alone, to find an outlet for his body's fight or flight reaction, to turn the frustration into something positive and beautiful, something only her body, her soul, could provide for him.

When she had first come into his line of vision in the drawing room, his anger, his hatred for the Nazis had been so strong, that he'd felt a sudden and startling desire to release Zeller's throat, take Maria by the hand, and lead her silently upstairs to show her all the ways they could escape in one another. In those moments his primal instincts had been so intense, that he'd needed nothing less than to simply be _inside_ her, to lose himself fully in her silken body. It hadn't been a physical reaction but a deeply innate, emotional desire to lay with his future wife until nothing and no one else existed, until they had only each other and their thundering heartbeats for company. He'd wondered briefly whether she'd seen it in his eyes, for she had met his heated gaze unashamedly, with a bold determination that seemed to speak of the very things he'd been thinking. She had known what he'd needed in those moments and the fact that she hadn't shied away from it had stirred him deeply.

But Georg had neglected his oldest friend for long enough. He knew he needed to finally enlightening Max to his plans for the future of his family. He'd been wanting to tell him about it ever since he'd decided to leave the country, but he'd wanted to make sure his affairs were in order and that Elsa was out of the picture. He knew that Elsa and Max were good friends, or at least they _had_ been, and he hadn't wanted to put Max in a difficult situation.

Pouring them both a much needed whiskey, Georg handed his friend a tumbler before sinking into a nearby chair, gulping a generous mouthful of the liquid and sighing heavily in relief. In allowing the tension to leave his body, he suddenly realised he ached everywhere. He was utterly exhausted after endless days of planning, completely downtrodden by the escalating dangers on their doorstep, and utterly frustrated by the lack of opportunity for physical release with his wife-to-be. His mind wondered back to their earlier encounter when he'd somehow ended up with his mouth on her bare breasts. He felt the familiar pull deep within when he imagined what it would be like to have her nimble fingers, her sweet tongue, tracing the lines of his aching muscles until he was finally sated. If the look in her eyes back in the drawing room was any indication, she'd need very little direction in helping him unwind..

"Better?" Max asked, interrupting Georg's train of thought and gesturing to the glass of whiskey in his hand.

"Much," Georg replied, taking another mouthful and eyeing his lodger pensively. Eventually he cleared his throat and leant forward in his chair, "listen Max.. I owe you an apology, my friend."

"What for Georg?"

"Well- " he took another swig of the amber liquid, buying some time while he tried to find the right words.

"For plotting to leave the country without telling me?" Max interjected casually.

Georg's eyes flew wide open and he began choking violently on his drink in surprise, pounding on his chest to stop the persistent spluttering. Entirely unfazed by his friend's coughing fit, Max sat swilling the contents of his own glass nonchalantly, as though what he'd said was of no more consequence than what he'd eaten for lunch.

Eventually Georg managed to catch his breath, " _how in God's name_ \- "

"As self-absorbed as you believe me to be Georg, I'm more observant than you give me credit for," Max retorted, raising an amused eyebrow and fixing his friend with a pointed look, "as I think I've told you previously, you're not exactly subtle."

Georg was baffled. Clearly his oldest friend knew him better than he knew himself at times.

"Well.. There's something _else_ you don't know," he confessed, to which Max roll his eyes emphatically.

"You mean the fact that you're taking Maria with you?"

Whiskey sprayed in every direction as an unsuspecting Georg chose that particular moment to take another poorly timed gulp of the liquid and proceeded to choke on it all over again.

Max took a casual sip of his own drink while he waited patiently for his friend to stop spluttering and regain some level of composure.

"Perhaps a glass of water would be somewhat easier for you to handle Georg?" Max smirked.

" _How the hell -_ " Georg choked.

Max sighed impatiently, though secretly he was rather enjoying Georg's bewilderment. It wasn't often that he had the upper hand against Austria's most loved naval hero.

"It's quite evident to anyone within a ten mile radius that you and the Fraulein are in love," he stated matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his drink, "it's the perfect cliche, don't you agree? You were an insensitive boar. She ran away. She came back. You kissed and made up. And so on and so forth.. I could make a play out of it!"

"A very _apt_ description of events.." Georg drawled sarcastically, having finally regained his composure.

"Not only that, you've been locking yourself away secretly for hours on end - and you made a deal with Hitler that I know full well you'd rather die than fulfil.." Max explained, picking some imaginary lint off his trousers casually, "my only logical conclusion was that you were planning to leave the country before being called upon for duty. And I knew the minute you got rid of Elsa that you had your heart set on taking Maria with you."

"Well it seems you've thought of everything Max," Georg smirked, rather amused.

"Far more than _you_ have my friend!"

"And what exactly does that mean?" Georg's eyes narrowed and he cocked his jaw to the side impatiently. He didn't much care for being outsmarted by his layabout lodger.

"While you've been cavorting around stealing forbidden touches from the governess and attacking Nazi officers," Max quipped, tugging at his moustache proudly, " _I've_ been making some plans of my own.."

" _Oh_?" Georg responded with unmistakable mirth, "and what might they be?"

"I'm coming with you," Max stated, draining the rest of his glass as though he'd said the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh you _are_ , are you?"

"Come now, Georg," the impresario gestured dramatically with his empty tumbler, "you can't possibly think I'm going to let the best talent in all of Salzburg slip from my clutches? I hardly think so. There'll be nothing left for me here if you all leave.."

The sentiment wasn't lost on Georg, who felt a rush of sudden tenderness for his friend. In his own twisted way, Max was letting him know that he considered the von Trapps to be his closest family.

"Ever since I sussed you out I've been plotting our escape," Max explained proudly, getting up to refill his glass, "and the Mother Abbess at Nonnberg has been helping me."

Georg was glad he hadn't taken another mouthful of whiskey at that precise moment because he would surely have choked to death on it. His jaw hit the floor and his friend looked entirely unperturbed by his blatant gawping.

"You have got to be _joking_ ," he snorted in disbelief. The thought of the Reverend Mother being party to a escape plot against the Nazis was almost too absurd to comprehend.

"Not at all, she's an absolutely brilliant woman," Max retorted, completely deadpan, "She could give you a run for your money when it comes to strategy."

"And what exactly is this collaborative strategy you've devised with the Nun-cum-secret-agent?" Georg smirked, his sarcasm entirely lost on Max who seemed immensely chuffed with his proactivity.

"The Nazis will be watching," Max declared, beginning to pace the room importantly as though suddenly in charge of an entire fleet of men, "they have eyes everywhere."

"So what do you suggest?" Georg humoured him.

"Send Maria back to the abbey."

" _What_?!" Georg had jumped to his feet in complete outrage, "are you mad!"

"Only for a night or two!" Max insisted, placing a firm hand on his stubborn friend's shoulder and shoving him back into his seat bossily.

"Absolutely not!" Georg retorted, the Captain in him ready to shout everybody in the villa into submission. The thought of Maria leaving him for a second time, especially in his hour of need, threatened to send him into a panic.

"Would you just _listen_ for five minutes!" Max insisted, holding his own under Georg's thunderous glare. His friend said nothing but finally nodded reluctantly, gesturing for Max to continue.

"Send Maria back and to outside eyes it will appear as though her time here as governess has come to its natural end," he watched as Georg's scowl deepened but still he pressed on, determined to be heard, "On the second day we'll send the children to see her and it will seem as though they're merely visiting. When they get there, Maria will be waiting for them and can make an escape in the caretaker's vehicle under the cover of darkness."

Georg leant forward in his chair and knitted his fingers together, the previous mirth having disappeared as he pondered over Max's idea.

"It's _you_ the Nazis want, not your family," Max continued, "While Maria gets the children across the border, you and I will make our own escape in your car in the dead of night and we'll meet them in Switzerland."

He drained the contents of his second helping of whiskey, thumped the empty glass down on the desk, and clapped his hands together in a triumphant grand finale.

Georg eyed the impresario suspiciously, utterly convinced there must be a flaw in his plan.

"It's risky to separate.." he murmured after a time, staring into the fireplace pensively.

"Surely it's even riskier to travel with them," Max took a seat again, the previous triumph having been replaced by a grave sympathy, "your presence will put Maria and the children in greater danger. At least if the Nazis catch wind of your plans, you can be sure the eight of them will make it safely across the borders."

Max watched the cogs turning behind Georg's eyes. It was evident he didn't like what he was hearing but he knew he couldn't argue with the logic behind it.

"Where was all this vigilant thinking when we were in the navy, old timer?" Georg quipped.

"Well it's hazy, but I believe I put it to far better use in chasing alcohol and women," Max grinned. He was immediately rewarded by a hearty laugh from his old comrade - a true, honest, belly laugh that rumbled from his chest and broke across his face. It was a laugh that Max hadn't heard in a while, given everything that had come to pass. He was glad he could still elicit that kind of reaction in his best friend.

Georg wiped the laughter from his eyes as he sighed heavily, eventually leaning back in his seat, his smile fading, "I'm not agreeing to anything unless Maria is on board."

" _Naturally_."

* * *

Not ten minutes later, Maria was sat calmly on the sofa in Georg's study with her hands in her lap as both men paced determinedly in front of her, waving their arms emphatically and finishing each other sentences as they explained everything they had discussed. She suddenly understood how these two had become such fast friends during their time in the Navy; once they got an idea in their heads it seemed there was no stopping them - she felt as though she were watching a theatrical performance! It would almost have been comical if it wasn't for the gravity of the situation.

Eventually they fell silent as they finished their presentation, sinking into their respective chairs and eyeing her wearily like small boys, as though expecting her to suddenly scold them both for their idiocy.

"I _told you_ it was a bad idea!" Georg hissed after Maria said nothing, giving Max's foot an insolent kick.

" _You're_ the one who said we should ask her!" Max spat, incredulous.

"Only because your plan was so absurd -"

" _You're_ absurd.."

"When you're both _quite_ finished," Maria interjected with stern authority, causing both men to fall deadly silent, staring sheepishly at the ground under her scrutiny.

"It just so happens that I've been speaking to the Reverend Mother myself," she enlightened them coolly, watching as both heads jerked up in astonishment. Max looked positively gleeful while Georg looked as though he needed a crane to lift his gaping jaw off the floor.

"She's already informed me of her plans," Maria continued casually, " _yes_ Max, I'm well aware it was mostly _her_ idea.."

"Ha!" Georg exclaimed triumphantly as the gleeful smirk was wiped from the impresario's face - only to fall silent again when Maria fixed him with another pointed glare.

"I'll leave at nightfall," she concluded matter-of-factly, much to Georg's outrage.

"And just when were you going to enlighten me to this little scheme?!" He barked, desperately attempting to take back control of a situation he'd had no part in.

"I was going to tell you this morning but you were somewhat distracted pinning a Nazi officer to the wall by his neck," Maria retorted with fire in her eyes, silencing her captain immediately.

"Ha! She's certainly got you there Georg!" Max snorted sardonically.

"Shut up, Max!" His friend snapped, a sulky scowl darkening his features.

Much to Georg's annoyance, Maria ignored his strop and rose from her seat, placing a grateful hand on Max's shoulder, "I'm glad you're coming with us Max, truly."

She was met with a sheepish smile and an affectionate pat on the hand, both parties completely oblivious to the daggers that Georg was throwing in Max's direction.

"Thank you Fraulein," Max murmured, grateful that the two of them were gradually becoming fast friends.

"Oh, why don't you just run away with each other!" Georg grumbled, folding his arms across his chest and sinking lower in his chair haughtily, "since you've both plotted such a through escape with me.."

Maria and Max shared a bemused look before the latter stood, placing a grateful kiss on Maria's cheek and throwing Georg a devilishly provocative look, only to be met with the ultimate death stare, "well, it seems I've outstayed my welcome," he smirked, "if anyone needs me, I'll be in the kitchens pestering cook about lunch."

"So I suppose you'll be taking it upon yourself to be our _chaperone_ , no doubt," Georg interjected with annoyance.

There was an unmistakable twinkle in Max's eye before he replied, "in times like these, no one deserves the _inconvenience_ of a chaperone.." And with that, he turned on his heels and left the lovers to quarrel.

Georg had intended to tell his fiance off the minute they were alone, to let her know how much her secrecy had irked him. But Max's departing words must've had a lasting effect on Maria because the door had barely closed before she was suddenly in his lap, her velvet arms slipping around his neck and her tongue invading his mouth with effortless ease.

He gave a low growl in response to her boldness and wrapped his arms around her as his previous rage gave way to the white hot flames licking relentlessly at his loins. He found her sudden urgency painfully arousing - the thought of his previously wimple-clad governess wanton and desperate for his touch was almost too much to bare. Had she ached for him this way when he'd been nothing more than her employer? he wondered. The possibility made him dizzy with longing as the blood rapidly rushed south, lost to the feeling of her featherlight body straddled against him.

She tore her mouth from his and bit at his earlobe gently, mimicking the things she'd learnt from him only a few days ago.

" _What did you need in the drawing room when you looked at me my darling_?" She murmured, nuzzling into his neck. Georg couldn't mask his sharp intake of breath. He knew she'd meant it as nothing more than an innocent question, but the words sounded like an irresistible seduction on her naive lips. She had no idea how arousing her curiosity was and he was struggling to contain his growing frustration. He wanted to show her _exactly_ what he'd needed.

"Darling?" She whispered against his skin when he failed to answer.

"Ah," He choked, attempting to breathe through the pounding in his ears, " _you.."_

"But what _about_ me?" Her lips travelled lower still, and he found himself scrambling to loosen his tie and tug the button of his collar open to give her better access to more of his untouched skin. She obliged willingly, tasting the flesh of his collarbone as he attempted to determine up from down. They needed to discuss their imminent plans, they needed to talk about her departure later today, but he couldn't think straight with the heady sensation of her tongue against his thundering pulse.

"If you can't show me, then _tell me_ ," she whispered.

He tried desperately to control himself, unwilling to take their caresses as far as they'd gone previously - partly for fear that it would scare her and partly for fear that he wouldn't be able to stop this time. But her bold fingers had begun releasing the rest of the buttons on his shirt and he was rapidly losing his inward battle with himself as she splayed her warm hand against his chest, running her fingers through the curls she found there.

" _Tell me.."_

He gulped.

"Your.. _Your body_ ," he gasped, running his hands down her back as her mouth followed the same fiery path as her fingers.

His answer left Maria breathless with desire. She could hardly believe her own courage but the look she'd seen in his eyes back in the drawing room had unleashed something dark and stirring within her. The heat and frustration in his gaze had spoken volumes about what he needed from her - and she realised, as his body trembled beneath her, that he had awoken a similar instinct in her that somehow told her exactly what to give.

" _It's all yours_ ," she breathed against his torso, and something primal in Georg snapped. Releasing a repressed grown he finally gave in to her bittersweet torture and began frantically popping open the buttons on the back of her dress, nipping at her throat impatiently and tugging the inconvenient garment from her shoulders. Letting go of his previous restraint he wasted no time in freeing her breasts, barely having had a chance to taste them during their last encounter. She threw her head back as his lips made contact and leaned into the sensation of his tongue licking at her skin, threading her fingers through his hair.

Without warning, his agile fingers found their way up her skirts and suddenly cupped the burning heat between her legs. " _This_ ," He growled frantically against her breasts, pressing his hand more firmly against her, " _this_ is what I need."

He words reduced her to nothing but a pool of needy desire. As his hand shifted slightly against her, she realised that she was entirely ready to beg.. _for what_? She wasn't sure. But it hardly mattered because she had completely forgotten how to speak.

And as quickly as he had touched her, as quickly as he had reduced her to utter desperation - he withdrew his hand again, pulling away from her and stilling their frantic movements. She almost sobbed with sheer frustration, the ghost of his hand still sending a deep ache from its point of contact to the rest of her trambling blody. The sheer intensity of it left her burning all over.

"But _not yet_ darling," he murmured against her lips, gazing into her crestfallen eyes and running the back of his hand down her silken cheek, "not like this."

" _But.."_ She gasped for breath, words escaping her as she clung to him, desperate and bereft.

"Believe me sweetheart, it's practically _killing me_ but you deserve more than a frantic fumble in my study," he kissed her chastely then, cursing himself for his blasted morals - her breasts were still tantalising close to his lips and his aching arousal was mere inches from her lithe body. But he could, he _would_ , wait for her.

Eventually she nodded, breathing a deep sigh of frustration, "perhaps it's for the best that I'm leaving tonight!"

He chuckled, kissing her again and whispering words of love against her lips.

"Come on," he shifted under her to indicate that they should get up, "I think it's time we found the children and made one or two more memories in this place before we leave our home."

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked this chapter, please do review! All thoughts welcome. I'm not sure if you all like the steamy scenes or would like to see less of them, but I've always been a fan of mixing it up a bit!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: very sorry it's taken me a bit longer to update. I lost my phone, and with it I lost a nearly complete chapter! Gr. So I had to start again. Anyway, enjoy**.

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Nightfall came far too quickly for Georg's liking and he couldn't help the scowl that wrinkled his forehead as he bundled Maria's guitar case and carpet bag into the back of the car. She smiled sympathetically at him as she got into the passenger seat but he could barely force himself to return it, the thought that he might not ever see her again being almost too painful to comprehend. Max had suggested that maybe Franz ought to take her back to the abbey to avoid suspicion but Georg had point blank refused. He wanted to spend every last possible moment with her lest it might be their last.

Their last afternoon together had been nothing short of perfect. They had taken the children up the Untersberg and the sun had been beating down on their innocent, smiling faces. They hadn't a care in the world, as though there was no threat of destruction right around the corner. Georg had watched them pensively from his position on the grass, his long legs stretched out in front of him. They had been dancing, laughing, playing, completely oblivious that they would soon be separated from their father. He thought about how much they might suffer in the next few weeks, months, years, until the sorrow threatened to engulf him and he joined them in their game instead, laughing, rolling around in the grass and clutching his babies to him until his sides hurt.

In the ethereal time between dusk and nightfall, he and Maria had shared loving kisses, caressing one another and whispering sweet nothings in their tree, Georg's symbol etched into the bark next to them as though watching over them and emitting hope. He had clung to her desperately, memorising every detail - her smell, her taste, the colour of her eyes, the swell of her curves, the sound of her voice. It was these precious moments that he would miss the most about his home. The material possessions, the trinkets, they meant very little compared to the years of wonderful memories he'd made here.

He drove on in relative silence, clutching Maria's hand in his lap and bringing it to his lips every so often. She gazed at him through the semi darkness and noticed his jaw set heavily in frustration, his eyes hardened with a sadness he was trying to conceal, his knuckles whitened from his death grip on the steering wheel.

"Darling.." She whispered, "pull over.."

"What?" He didn't look at her, it was as though he couldn't.

"Pull over," she repeated calmly and he acquiesced, bringing the car to a halt at the side of the deserted country lane.

"What's the matter sweetheart?" He asked, staring hard at the steering wheel.

"Look at me Georg," she breathed but still he wouldn't, and his jaw clenched tighter as though he were fighting an inward battle.

" _Georg.."_

"I'm afraid if I look at you I won't be able to let you go.." He whispered, gripping the steering wheel harder to still his shaking fingers. Wordlessly she took his face in her hands and turned his head until his eyes met hers, the sorrow she saw there breaking her heart in two. This brave, strong man - this warm, caring, emotionally complex individual who would've died for his country, this beautiful man was breaking.

She kissed him then, hard. It was a dangerous kiss, hot and languid, but full of unmistakable comfort and reassurance - an unspoken pact that this would not be their last. She felt the familiar flames leap to life in her stomach as the taste of his mouth hit her tongue, only this time the flames were fiercer, more demanding, as though her body somehow knew she might never taste him again. The realisation hit her like a blow to the chest in those moments and she felt something snap within her - suddenly she very much understood his primal need to take her body in his moments of despair. She understood because she felt it too, overwhelmingly so, as she clung to him desperately. She felt a possessive need to have him as close as their bodies could possibly allow, she needed nothing more than to lose herself in him, to have him buried inside her.

Boldly, she broke their kiss and climbed across the car into his lap, shedding her coat and straddling him as his eyes blew wide.

"Maria, what.. " but she silenced him with her mouth, swallowing his groan and placing his hands on her breasts that longed to be freed and touched. His long fingers found her nipples through the chiffon with ease and stroked them into knots, causing her heart to jump into her throat. The evidence of his arousal was already pressing against her thigh and she longed to free him, to sheath him, to become utterly lost with him, to lead each other into the flames. She didn't care where she was, or where she was headed, or where they might be days from now - the world didn't exist beyond this car, the man underneath her was her only reality.

" _Make love to me_ ," she rasped, her fingers fisting in his hair as her chest heaved against his hands. She felt, rather than heard his sharp intake of breath.

" _Maria_.." He murmured uncertainly, his voice low in his throat. It was a dangerous thing - knowing that all he'd have to do was free himself from his trousers and remove her undergarments to finally be inside her.

" _Please_ ," she breathed, biting his lower lip and sending a jolt of electricity straight to where he ached for her. He battled inwardly with himself as she nibbled relentlessly at his throat - in a car of all places, unmarried, fully clothed. It wasn't exactly the first encounter he'd so often fantasised about but the thought that he may never get the chance to lay with her, combined with the heady sensation of the woman he loved pressed against every inch of his body, made propriety seem completely null and void.

He found his hand sliding under her skirts, grazing past her stockings, over her garters, along the velvet skin of her inner thighs until finally he brushed a languid finger between her legs, the material of her undergarments nothing more than a inconvenience to him as he moved it aside impatiently, eliciting a low gasp from his lover.

She arched towards him as he found her centre, drawing agonisingly slow circles against her as she gripped his hair tightly, her breathing ragged against his cheek. He could hardly see her through the darkness of the evening as it shrouded the car, but he could just make out her eyes crazed with uninhibited desire as she battled with his belt buckle.

His heart thundered against his rib cage as she began to shudder in his arms, a ragged 'I love you' tumbling from her lips as she managed to free him from his trousers. It wasn't until she took him in her hand, her warm, silken grip threatening to be his undoing, that he instinctively grabbed her wrist to still her movements.

Her gasps halted abruptly and the silence was deafening before she let out a frustrated cry and left his lap, returning to the passenger seat in a flurry of skirts and anger.

" _Darling_.." He choked, attempting to catch his breath.

"No!" She snapped, staring out of the passenger window into the darkness, "I may.. I may never see you again! And you won't even let me _touch_ you!"

"You don't think I _want you to_?!" He cried, incredulous, "I want you so badly I can hardly stand it!" He grabbed her hand in his frustration and pressed her palm angrily into his lap so she could feel what she had done to him, " _this_ is how desperately I need you!" He cried, his words reaching through her ears and straight to a place made of fire deep in her gut.

"But we're in the drivers seat of a car on a country lane for Christ sake, on the way to the _abbey_ I might add!" He retorted, giving her hand back, "I dread to think what the Reverend Mother would say if she knew I'd taken your virtue half clothed, unmarried and up against the steering wheel on the journey over!"

The silence was palpable while the blood pounded in his ears, a scowl etching into his features.

"And don't say things like that," he snapped, "that we might not see each other again."

"Well it's true!" She cried, whipping round to face him, tears pooling in her eyes, "I know I agreed to the Reverend Mother's plan but that doesn't mean I'm not _terrified_ Georg! I love you and the thought of -"

"Stop," he whispered firmly, taking her shaking hands in his tightly, and pressing them to his lips, "stop this. We will _absolutely_ see each other again, I swear to you that you'll be in my arms in a matter of days, and I will show you all the ways I want to love you. It'll be all I can think about to get me through."

He kissed her hard, desperately, an unspoken promise that he meant every word, and when her tears began to fall he kissed them away from her cheeks, whispering words of adoration. He held her gently, cradled her in his arms until the tears no longer flowed and she gently pulled away from his embrace.

"I suppose we'd better go," Maria whispered, placing a warm palm against his cheek. He nodded, kissing the caressing hand.

"I love you," he murmured into the darkness, "it will all be okay, I _promise_ you." She nodded before he turned back to the steering wheel and revved the car into gear.

* * *

The Reverend Mother paced nervously up and down the length of her office. Maria was late. It hardly surprised her but, given the circumstances, the young woman's tardiness left a bad taste in the nun's mouth. There was no reason that anyone would follow her here, or even suspect anything out of the ordinary, but if the Nazis had eyes on the Captain they'd be aware of her imminent return to the abbey. And with that knowledge came the possibility of danger.

Suddenly the front bell rang shrilly through the walls of the abbey and the elderly woman almost dashed down the corridor, finally reaching the gate and ushering a crestfallen Maria through the entranceway. Captain von Trapp stepped over the threshold after her, clutching her hand as though unable to let go.

"Maria, thank goodness," the Reverend Mother sighed with relief, "did you face trouble along the way?"

"No, no everything is fine Mother," Maria replied, breathlessly, "there was no trouble."

"Good," the elderly woman replied, "I was concerned, Herr Detweiller informed me you'd left an hour ago."

Georg made a disapproving noise somewhere between a scoff and a splutter at the mention of Max's name. The elderly nun chose to ignore it.

"I'm afraid you can't stay long Captain," she turned to Georg who instinctively pulled Maria a little closer, "it'll only look suspicious."

He gave a tight nod but still didn't let go of Maria's hand and the two women shared a knowing look.

"I'll give you five minutes," the Mother Abbess said, the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

As she began to step away Georg called after her, finding his manners. She turned to face him patiently.

"Thank you," he murmured, "for everything you're doing to protect my family."

She gave a weary smile of understanding and bowed her head before leaving them alone.

When the Reverend Mother had retreated, Maria wrapped her arms around Georg's neck in a tight embrace, hugging him closely to her, "I'll be safe here," she whispered into the shell of his ear, resisting the urge to take the lobe between her teeth, "and the children will be too."

She pulled back to look into his eyes and he nodded unhappily before placing a chaste kiss against her lips.

"Franz will bring them here tomorrow," he replied, pulling her more tightly against him, "they won't have many belongings with them. You'll need to explain everything to them when they get here. I would tell them tonight but I don't want to alarm them or give the little ones reason to panic."

"I understand," she whispered against his lips, "and I'll see you in Switzerland in forty eight hours?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt my love."

* * *

Georg paced relentlessly in his study dressed in his travel attire as Max watched him in silence from the corner of the room. Franz had taken the children to the abbey an hour ago and had now returned - he hadn't asked questions and Georg hadn't given anything other than minimal instructions to follow. He had tried his best to give each of the children a normal goodbye, a quick hug as though he would see them later that same day. Except of course he wouldn't. And so he'd hugged them all that bit tighter, watching as they shared confused looks as to why he was acting so peculiarly. It was only Leisl who met his gaze with a knowing look as though she saw right through him and it had startled him how much she had looked like her mother in those moments.

"For goodness sake Georg you'll wear a hole in the carpet," Max exclaimed, pouring a generous whiskey and handing it to his restless friend.

"Forgive me if I seem a little on edge Max," Georg retorted sarcastically, knocking the liquid back, pulling on his jacket and tossing Max his own.

"Everything's gone smoothly so far, the children are safe with Maria at the abbey and we'll be out of the country by midnight," Max replied casually, as though running through the agenda for an evening rendez vous, "and I received some news earlier today that I think will please you immensely.."

Georg raised his eyebrows in question and Max looked positively gleeful, "Zeller has been taken into custody."

The slightest smile tugged at Georg's lips, "and how do you know that?"

"I make it my business to know _everything about everyone_ ," Max mimicked the Nazi rat's previous words with a wicked grin and Georg snickered despite himself. If there was one silver lining to this entire mess it was the knowledge that Wolfgang Zeller would spend at least some time behind bars panicking about what was to become of him.

"What time is it?" He asked, resuming his pacing.

"It's ten minutes later than the last time you asked," Max rolled his eyes but straightened a little in his chair when his friend fixed him with a look that could kill a man at ten paces.

"It's seven fifteen Georg, the sun is setting already so we can leave at eight o'clock, as discussed."

Georg nodded curtly and went into the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a box of matches. He struck one alight and threw it into the fireplace where piles of papers and documentation were bundled together for burning.

"Is that the last of it?" Max asked.

"Yes," Georg stated, "they won't be able to trace me or get at my money.. Or Agathe's."

"Good."

"Do you have everything?"

"The clothes on my back, my wallet. My passport. What else do refugees need?" Max quipped, draining his glass.

" _Refugees_.." Georg muttered bitterly, shaking his head as he watched the flames engulf the documents. He was being driven from his home by a crazed Nazi bastard who would most likely make it his life's ambition to watch the world burn. It made the bile rise in his throat.

Without warning, the sound of the doorbell reverberated around the villa and the two men jumped in alarm, fixing each other with a panicked stare.

"Expecting company?" Max hissed as they jumped into action, Georg stamping out the fire with a booted foot and snatching the car keys from their place atop the desk.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Georg retorted uncertainly, more to convince himself than anyone else.

But the reassurance behind his words fell flat when whoever stood on the other side of the front door grew impatient and proceeded to hammer their fist aggressively against the heavy wood.

"Open this door!" A vicious voice bellowed, followed rapidly by something heavy smashing against the wood with a single sickening thud.

The two men moved from the study cautiously to find a flustered Frau Schmidt hurrying towards the door.

"Slowly! _Slowly_.." Georg warned the housekeeper who reduced her pace, giving the men time to slip round the corner of the corridor that led to the kitchens. They pressed themselves against the wall in the shadows, and Georg was immediately grateful that he had a housekeeper he could entrust with his family's secret. She would take it to her grave, he knew.

They held their breaths as they heard the snick of the lock and Frau Schmidt's polite 'good evening' as she opened the door to their unwelcome visitor.

"Move aside woman!" The same voice barked, followed by the sound of several pairs of booted feet marching across the threshold, clicking intimidatingly against the marble floor. Georg's chest tightened with unrelenting dread as the image of Nazi soldiers entering his home came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. He met Max's anxious gaze, his worries confirmed as he saw the same panic reflected back at him in his friend's eyes.

"Where is he!" The voice of the Nazi officer bellowed, as Georg heard the sound of various doors being opened and closed, the blood boiling in his veins as he listened helplessly to the soldiers searching his home.

He felt Max's hand grip at his shoulder and he turned to face him as his friend wordlessly gestured with his head for them to retreat further down the corridor towards the kitchens in hiding.

They managed to slip into the kitchens unseen and Georg locked the door behind him silently before rounding on Max.

"Why are they here!" He whisper-shouted, looking around frantically for an escape route. It was only a matter of time before the soldiers would reach the kitchen and the two men had stupidly barricaded themselves in.

"How the hell should I know!" Max hissed, following Georg around the room as he attempted to find another way out.

"Well as far as they're aware I've accepted my post, so why have they come to arrest me! _Who have you told_!" He jabbed an index finger into Max's chest before resuming his escape search.

"Maybe you should turn that finger around and ask yourself who amongst your household you can really trust!" Max whispered bitterly, the sound of the search party getting dangerously closer.

Georg halted in his tracks as Max's words sunk in.

" _Franz.."_ He murmured, the word barely audible on his lips. What had the butler seen or heard that he'd then passed to the Nazis? Did he know about Maria's planned departure with his children? Did he know where they were headed? It made him feel dizzy with dread.

The sound of voices and footsteps drawing dangerously close to the door pulled him from his reverie.

Hurriedly pulling himself up onto the work surface, he stood and reached up to the small rectangular window above the sink. It was lengthy enough for them to pull themselves through but it was rather narrow and locked, a key nowhere to be seen.

"Hand me that rolling pin," he instructed to Max who acquiesced, "I'm going to break the window but it's going to draw attention to us so we need to be quick - get up here."

Max obeyed and watched anxiously as his friend smashed the rolling pin against the glass, breaking it with a sickening shatter. Immediately shouts were heard and thundering footsteps echoed down the hallway outside before the door handled rattled aggressively, causing his heart to beat wildly in his chest.

"The game's up von Trapp!" The officer shouted, "don't do anything rash."

Hurriedly Georg hauled Max forward and gave him a leg up, shoving him through the tight gap, being careful not to catch him with the broken glass.

A deep thud of metal, most likely the butt of a gun, was heard thudding against the door as the soldiers tried to force entry. Adrenaline coursed through Georg's veins as his body engaged fight or flight.

Max had dropped down out of sight and Georg scrambled to join him, narrowly avoiding a stray shard of glass that stuck out jaggedly from the frame near his eye.

"Enough of this nonsense!" He heard the officer bellow behind him, "move aside!" A deafening gunshot was fired against the lock on the kitchen door, blowing through the wood and splintering it from its hinges effortlessly. Soldiers swarmed the room and Georg felt a rough hand grab at his ankle as the officer shouted orders repeatedly about wanting him alive. He kicked with all his might, freeing himself of their clutching hands before falling the short distance to the ground beside Max with a thud.

"After him! Outside now! That's an order!" The officer's shouts could be heard through the broken window.

Max hauled his friend to his feet hurriedly as their chests heaved.

" _Come on_ ," Georg spluttered, "we haven't got much time. The car is just around corner!"

"It's no use Georg," Max grasped him by the shoulders, shaking his head gravely, "the soldiers are everywhere."

"We have to try! _We have to_ -" Georg cried, beside himself with anguish.

" _Listen to me!"_ Max gripped him tighter, shoving something into his hand. Georg looked down to see a set of keys in his palm, "they're the keys to Franz's truck," Max explained hurriedly, as Georg's confused scowl deepened, "I grabbed them from the hook in the kitchen when I was getting the rolling pin."

Georg eyed him as though he were mad, the panic rising in his chest.

"They don't know I'm with you," Max continued, "Give me your car keys and I'll divert the soldiers. They'll follow your car thinking you're the one driving it. You can take Franz's vehicle and head for the border," he held out his hand expectantly for the keys.

"You're insane," Georg spluttered, "absolutely not. _I won't leave you_!"

"As much as I will miss arguing with you day in day out my friend, there's really no time right now," Max smiled sadly, "if you don't give me your keys they'll arrest us _both_ and it will be years before you see Maria or your children again - if at all."

Georg felt his chest entirely constrict as the gravity of his friend's words washed over him. As much as they irritated each other, as much as they struggled to see eye to eye at times, Max had been his anchor in some of the most wonderful and some of the darkest moments of his life. He had been the one to encourage Georg to court Agathe. He'd been best man at their wedding. He'd been named godfather to each of Georg's children. He'd wrenched the empty whiskey bottles from Georg's grip when he'd drink himself into oblivion over Agathe's death. And now he was willing to put himself in danger, to sacrifice his own freedom for the sake of Georg's family. The realisation evoked such a rush of love for the man in front of him that he suddenly couldn't breathe. They were family, they were _brothers_.

"They'll catch up with you and arrest you when they realise your involvement.. I can't leave you.." He grasped the wall for support, his eyes darkening with sorrow, " _I can't_.."

"For your _children_ Georg," Max replied, fixing his friend with a determined stare and gripping his shoulders again, trying to shake some sense into him, "you can do it for your children. You and Maria are all they have now. No one will miss uncle Max."

" _I'll_ miss you!" Georg retorted, desperately, "we all will! Who's going to bleed me dry!"

"You'll have nothing for me to exploit, you're a refugee remember?" Max grinned.

Shouts were heard close by as the soldiers neared the side of the villa and Georg knew he didn't have much time left. Reluctantly he handed Max his keys and pulled the man into a fierce hug, thumping his hand against his back, words failing him as he choked back the tears of anger and despair that threatened to fall when he realised he might never see his friend again. His throat closed at the terrifying thought, and he pulled back wordlessly, gripping Max's head in his hands.

 _"Try and find us, brother,"_ he whispered.

"One day," Max nodded, smiling sadly, "one day..."

It wasn't until Georg was racing down the road in Franz's truck - away from his pursuers, away from his home, away from his friend - that he finally allowed the tears of hopelessness to fall.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: thank you so so much for all your reviews, I'm honestly so humbled by some of them and they keep me writing! So thank you thank you thank you! I hope you enjoy this update, though I have to admit it gets a little dark.**

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Maria gritted her teeth against the sobs of relief that threatened to tear from her lungs as she pressed the accelerator pedal of the caretaker's car as far into the floor as it would go, the rickety old vehicle whipping down the country lanes like an ace as she tried to put as much distance between themselves and her beloved abbey as possible. Friedrich, who suddenly seemed every bit as stoic and honourable as his father, as though he'd somehow become a man overnight, gripped her hand in comfort from his position in the passenger seat - and the little ones were cradled in Liesl and Louisa's laps in the back, giving Maria the strength she needed to struggle on.

She'd never forgive herself for the danger she'd put the abbey in, and she attempted to swallow past the lump in her throat as she remembered the chilling terror that had raced through her heart when the Nazi soldiers had barged through the gates and torn the sacred place to pieces trying to find them. She'd been waiting for the children since the moment Georg had said goodbye to her and when her seven charges had finally arrived she had clung to each of them with adoration, before explaining to them, in words they could understand, that they would need to leave just before nightfall. They had been so mature, so understanding, so accepting of their unfortunate situation, that it had melted Maria's heart. These seven lost souls who, while privileged in upbringing, had spent much of their childhoods lacking in affection and comfort and would now be torn from their material possessions, were so compassionate, so gracious, so humble that she found herself loving them more everyday.

And their little faces had suddenly filled her with a profound sense of hope that everything was going to be okay, that fate would be on their side. Until darkness had fallen and the Mother Abbess had rushed to her side in panic to tell her that the Nazis had come. Urgently, they had been ushered into hiding, wedged between the stone placards and the sacred walls of the abbey. She had hidden the children from the beams of the torches as best she could, listening to the horrifying rattle of the iron gates and desperately trying to keep the little ones silent as they'd come within a hairs width of being discovered.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, silent tears pricked at her eyes as she thought of the Reverend Mother, the extraordinary woman who'd put her own safety in jeopardy to help them flee. She would most likely never see her again. She prayed that the Nazis weren't brutal enough to hurt those who had dedicated their lives to God's service, but at this point she wasn't sure _what_ they might be capable of.

When they were far enough away that she felt she could finally breathe again, she pulled over on a deserted lane so she could check on the children. They'd had to flee so quickly that she hadn't had time to comfort them, to check that they were coping, and as a trembling Gretl clung to her by the side of the darkened road, crying for her papa, Maria had vowed that she would shed no more tears in front of her charges on this fateful journey. These seven children were in desperate need of a mother's love, now more than ever, and she needed to be strong for all of them.

At the little girl's mention of her father, Maria's heart had turned to stone and her lungs had felt as though they were filling with lead. _Georg_. She had tried her best not to think of him for fear that she'd break down, for fear that she'd be overcome with terror. But the startling reality of what could have happened to him, to Max, hit her square in the chest and she had to steady herself against the car lest she might collapse.

 _What had become of them?_ If the Nazis had stormed the abbey in their search for Georg, what was it that Hitler had discovered? Did they know of Georg's dissent? Had they assumed Georg was hiding with them? Or worse, had the soldiers gone to the villa and found the two men in the midst of their escape? Had it turned violent? Had they been able to flee in time?

The endless questions raced around in her head until she became too dizzy to think. They had to keep moving, they had until midnight to reach the border before it closed and they were still hours from their destination. As she straightened up to get back into the car, adopting as brave a face as she could muster for her charges, she caught Liesl's eye and saw her very own fears reflected back at her.

* * *

Exhaustion and hunger were beginning to replace the previous fear that had clung to Maria as they ambled on through the darkness, the dimmed headlights the only source of light, and she began to feel her eyelids drooping as her head lolled slightly on her shoulders. She wasn't the most confident of drivers, having been taught only the basics by the caretaker back when she was a postulant and had had to make trips to a few orphanages that had been a little further out of town. And now the exhaustion was beginning to take its toll.

" _Fraulein!"_ Liesl hissed from her position in the passenger seat, nudging her with a sharp elbow and jolting her awake. It was the girl's turn to keep watch over Maria as she drove, Friedrich having taking refuge in the back to get some sleep with the little ones, all six of them in slumber with brows furrowed in torment.

"Sorry Leisl," she murmured, attempting to shake the tiredness from her clouded head, "I guess I'm a little tired."

"And upset," Leisl observed compassionately, eyeing her with concern as the hair on the back of Maria's neck prickled unexpectedly under the girl's scrutiny.

"We're _all_ upset Leisl," Maria reminded her with a sad smile.

"Well yes, but there's something else...I can tell.." the girl trailed off as though deep in thought. Her eyes narrowed in Maria's direction, a slight frown creasing her forehead as she looked for a sign as to what might be troubling her governess beyond the obvious. Maria's pulse began to quicken - the last thing she needed was to be interrogated by a sixteen year old about why she felt so utterly terrified. The charged silence stretched on until Leisl eventually sat back in her seat reluctantly and Maria breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed as though the girl had finally dropped the topic. Until -

"Is it because you love father?"

"Wh.. _What?!"_ Maria's mouth dropped open and her head snapped in Leisl's direction in utter bewilderment, entirely forgetting there was a road in front of her and swerving just in time to miss a nearby bush that had suddenly appeared in her path.

Leisl clung to her seatbelt in alarm and Maria whirled around quickly to check the other children hadn't woken up and were secretly listening to the bizarre conversation beginning to unfold in the front.

She whipped back around to find Leisl fixing her with a knowing stare, appearing far older than her sixteen years.

Maria found her mouth was opening and closing repeatedly like a fish out of water - the girl's words had so shocked her that she simply couldn't form a coherent sentence, " _you.. I... We-"_

"Love each other," Leisl finished for her matter-of-factly, becoming rather amused by her Fraulein's flustered state, "I'm not a child Fraulein, it's so _obvious_."

"And what makes you say that?!" Maria retorted, suddenly finding her voice.

"Well, you're fleeing with us for a start," Leisl scoffed slightly, "no governess is truly _that_ dedicated to her charges.."

Maria attempted to hide her sheepishness as a blush began to creep up her cheeks.

"And you were always going off to that tree together.." Leisl continued, "You know the one with the M and G markings?"

Maria turned a shocking shade of puce as her eyes grew wide, "you _knew_ about that?!"

The girl nodded proudly, a grin spreading over her features as she leant closer, "I saw father heading into the trees once or twice and the curiosity got the better of me.. I couldn't work out why he was always sneaking off there. So I had a look for myself, and I found the marking etched into the bark. At first I'd thought it stood for _Max_ and Georg!" She stifled a burst of laughter as the hint of a smile tugged at Maria's lips, despite herself.

"Anyway, that's when I put two and two together," Leisl explained triumphantly, "the sideways glances, the change in father, the fact that you came back... It all makes sense."

Reflecting on the young girl's words, Maria tried to think of how best to explain matters of the heart to her eldest charge. She took a deep breath, "Well, I suppose I haven't been fair to you in assuming you are oblivious to these things Leisl. Yes, I love your father but -"

"But now you're afraid we may never see him again..." Leisl whispered gravely, taking Maria's hand.

Maria found she couldn't form words as the lump returned to her throat - she could only nod and grip Liesl's hand tighter.

"I don't think we have anything to worry about with father," the girl eventually murmured whimsically, "he was decorated by the Emperor."

Cracking a watery smile, Maria nodded - she couldn't find the heart to tell her that even her father's bravery may not be enough to save him now.

As though she'd read her Fraulein's thoughts, Leisl gave her hand another reassuring squeeze, "He'll find a way," she muttered, "He's got a reason to fight for his freedom now more than ever.."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he has _you_.." Leisl shrugged simply.

The young girl's words reached into the depths of Maria's heart and filled it with such hope that it knocked the wind out of her. It was such a simple observation, such a humble notion, and yet the meaning behind it, the love behind it, filled her with a warmth that spread protectively right through to her toes.

"Thank you," she choked.

A pensive silence hung between them as both became lost in their own thoughts, before the moment was finally broken by a girlish giggle from Leisl.

"What's so funny?" Maria asked, incredulous.

"It's just.." Leisl giggled again, "I simply can't imagine someone like _father_ carving adorable little love notes into trees!"

Maria couldn't help but grin then as they both giggled mercilessly despite their abysmal circumstances - she had to hand it to Leisl, if someone had told her back when she'd first met the dark, conservative Captain that he would end up carving her initials into a tree as a gesture of love, she would've eaten the dress the poor didn't want.

* * *

Much to Maria's relief they'd made it across the border with very little trouble, finally arriving at the tiny bed and breakfast that she and Georg had agreed on, in the Swiss town of Davos, in the early hours of the morning. They had been starving hungry and weak when they'd arrived, but fatigue had overtaken them and they had all collapsed in the tiny family room they'd managed to secure. With only one double bed, the little ones had piled in under the sheets together and fallen asleep instantly while the eldest children, along with Maria, had made do with nests they'd assembled on the floor.

The room was less than ideal but it was all they'd managed to acquire at such short notice and Maria was grateful that it was at least inconspicuous and comfortable, providing a much needed roof over their heads. The owners had asked very few questions as to why she was travelling alone with seven children and Maria was more than relieved that they'd respected her privacy.

Despite her exhaustion, she hadn't been able to get a wink of sleep as she'd laid awake staring at the ceiling, waiting for Max and Georg to miraculously burst through the door at any moment. As the hours ticked by at a snail's pace, dread had unfurled in her stomach like a sickness as she'd begun to fear the worst.

By the time the second night came and they still hadn't arrived, she found herself overcome with a suffocating sense of grief like none she'd ever experienced. She knew they had until morning before she and the children would be turfed out of the bed and breakfast - the room had been available for two nights only - and once they left their agreed spot, it would be ten times more difficult for the two men to find them. She'd begged and pleaded with the owners to allow her one more night. She'd even offered them the remainder of the money Georg had given her to see her through, but it had been no use.

On the morning of the third day, they'd woken to the earth shattering news that war had been declared in Europe. Maria hadn't slept for nearly 48 hours, her eyes feeling as though they were bulging from her head as a consequence of the overwhelming fatigue. She'd been so debilitated that she could no longer feel any real emotion and she found the devastating news seemed to evoke no fear, no heartache, no despair - just a numb sense of hopelessness that clung to her like a disease. She'd felt nothing but blackness as they'd gathered their few belongings and left the bed and breakfast, forcing one foot in front of the other as she'd willed herself to trudge from place to place until they'd finally found new accommodation on the other side of town.

She'd tried her best to keep the children's spirits up and they'd even taken a quick walk to the small river at the bottom of the road at lunch time, enjoying the spring sunshine and trying to forget the fact that all seemed lost. The smaller ones had enquired about their father a few times but, much to Maria's dismay, their questions had slowly begun to fade, as though they somehow already knew the answers. She'd found herself wondering for the first time since they'd arrived what she was going to do without Georg. Where would they go? How would she make a living? How would the war affect them? How would she care for his brood? She had very little to her name and had no legal right to any of Georg's assets. How stupid and naive they'd been not to come up with a contingency plan.

* * *

It was early evening and the children were bundled on top of the double bed in the cramped room, idly trying to pass the time. There wasn't much to do except wait and they were gradually growing restless. At least their new accommodation was slightly bigger, with its own tiny bathroom and a second bedroom no larger than a walk in closet, which contained a small single bed. Maria had thought it best that when night came the two boys could share the single bed while the girls could all fit in the double in the main room, leaving Maria to settle for the floor.

Kurt suddenly broke the eerie silence as he sat up from his slumped position on the bed and whined loudly about how hungry he was, eliciting a few murmurs of agreement from his siblings. Maria sighed as she attempted to ignore her own deepening hunger. They'd run out of bread shortly after lunch and she knew the children hadn't had a proper meal in days. She'd been trying desperately to make their remaining money last until she had some kind of plan, but she knew she couldn't feed them on bread forever.

"Very well," she muttered, getting to her feet from her position on the floor, "Leisl would you mind watching everyone while I see where's open?"

Leisl nodded and it wasn't long before Maria was out in the street, breathing in the Alpine air deeply as she watched the stirring sunset begin to creep behind the hills. She stood still for a few minutes with her eyes closed, allowing the breeze to ruffle her hair and the faint chirping of the birds to calm her beating heart. How beautiful it was, how peaceful it all seemed, when inside a storm of despair was raging.

Eventually she took a step forward and allowed her feet to carry her until she found the nearest store. It wasn't until she looked up that she realised she'd taken herself as far across town as where their last accommodation had been and she made to do her shop quickly so she could get back to the children before nightfall. Gathering as many meats and cheeses and other provisions in her arms as she could, she made the payment and left the store hurriedly, hoping she'd bought enough to keep her hungry charges satisfied.

Rushing down the street, she turned a corner and came upon a sight that caused her to stopp dead in her tracks. The scene that met her eyes caused her heart to erupt into her mouth and the provisions cradled in her arms suddenly crashed to the floor around her feet as she gasped for oxygen. She could hardly dare to believe what she was seeing, it couldn't possibly be real. There, slumped in a crumpled heap against the wall outside their old bed and breakfast, with his head in his hands and looking almost unrecognisable, was Georg.

 _Georg._

" _Georg!"_ She screamed as loud as her lungs would allow her, her voice completely alien to her as it carried on shrieking his name in a strangled plea. And before she knew it she realised she was running, her feet carrying her at full speed entirely of their own accord, and she watched as his dishevelled head snapped up in bewilderment, his bloodshot eyes focusing and then widening in utter disbelief as he struggled to his feet.

And then she was in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably and clinging to him as though he were her only lifeline, as though he were a miracle she could hardly have hoped for, as though he were back from the dead. His jaw had clenched tight as he'd clutched her to him, words entirely evading him as he attempted to bite back the raw emotion that threatened to engulf him. His eyes held such sorrow that it knocked the wind out of her and he was utterly disheveled - his skin cut and ruddy with dirt, his clothes torn and muddy, his face gaunt and soulless - and he was shaking uncontrollably, unfathomably weak from whatever he'd been put through.

When she managed to catch her breath in between the sobs of sheer relief that shook her body, she pulled back and looked around them, half expecting their boyish impresario to jump out from behind the wall and yell _surprise_.

"Where's Max?" She choked through her sobs.

Georg said nothing, only staring into her face as though seeing straight past her. But she found her answer in the way his darkened eyes glazed over with an inky blackness, filling her with overwhelming sorrow.

* * *

It had been hours since she'd brought Georg back to the accommodation with her and he'd barely spoken a word about what had happened to him. He'd clung to each of his children with such desperate relief it had almost broken her heart but she had been met with a dangerous silence whenever she tried to get him to share what he'd suffered these last few days. She couldn't begin to imagine what he and Max must've gone through, or where Max would be at this point, or how Georg had even got here. And it frightened her that he seemed unable to talk about it, refusing to acknowledge that war had been declared - but he was exhausted, malnourished, bruised - and if he wasn't ready to talk to her then she wanted desperately to at least reach out to him, to comfort him and reassure him in any way that she could.

She had gone to him that night, in the early hours when the children were asleep, finding him sat on the small bed in the second bedroom where they'd agreed he would sleep - Friedrich and Kurt having joined their siblings in the main bedroom to give him room to recover. He'd been sitting with his back to her in the shadows, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He'd looked utterly lost, entirely alone, so exhausted, and she'd found her feet carrying her forward of their own accord. Wordlessly she had approached him, slipping both hands along his bare shoulders until he turned to face her. She had looked into his eyes that were blackened with sorrow, his face contorted with anguish, and she'd gently kissed and caressed his cheeks as though she were healing invisible wounds. He had known without explanation what she was offering him - comfort, solace, reassurance. _Her body_. And this time he'd done nothing to fight it as he wordlessly pulled her down beneath him, his brow furrowed in sadness, running his fingertips along her collarbone and never taking his tormented eyes from hers. The reality of war, the startling realisation that life could be ripped out from under them at any moment - it had put things into harsh perspective for both of them. And as he'd caressed her skin, there had been none of the previous urgency, none of the frantic desperation, none of the lustful pleas - only a heady mixture of despair, longing, adoration and primal need. Without a word uttered she had taken his hand, pressed it to her lips and placed it on her breast where her heart thundered furiously for him. She'd encouraged him to shed their travel clothes and he'd done so agonisingly slowly, holding her desperately close, allowing not even an inch between their bodies as though he were afraid he'd somehow lose her too.

He'd taken his time tasting every patch of exposed skin as each layer of garment fell away, their limbs intertwined as he fenced her in with his strong arms, pulling her that bit closer. Her entire body had ached for him, a desire that went far beyond the physical. It was a beautiful and rare thing, she'd thought - to be able to trust in someone enough to share in this level of despair, this level of vulnerability, to escape reality together and lead each other into the flames without restraint.

Biting gently at her lower lip, he had gathered her in his arms and moved slowly within her, watching her beneath him as though memorising every whimper, every fiery look, every tortured expression as they became one. His gaze had burned with such raw despair and adoration that she'd thought she might drown in the intensity of it. She had seen into his soul, into the very heart of him in those moments, as his entire body had trembled above her, and she'd realised that he'd gone to a place of pure hopelessness, a place that only she would be able to bring him back from.

If the first time she'd lain with a man had happened in this way under any other circumstances, she might've been frightened by the sheer intensity of what they were sharing. But as it was, she felt like nothing less than his equal precisely because she understood his despair, she understood his primal need to possess her, to protect her, to bury himself deep within her and lose himself entirely. She understood because she had felt it too, overwhelmingly so - the innate desperation to cling to something beautiful and raw and real in a world of uncertainty. They were one flesh, one soul, and she'd known that for him as well as her, nothing else existed beyond the protective cocoon they'd found in one another.

As he'd gently sunk into the warmth of her body, Georg had found himself overwhelmed by thoughts of everything that had come to pass, everything that he'd lost - his home, his country, his friend, his memories - and something primitive had snapped deep within him unexpectedly. He'd suddenly found himself consumed with an insatiable hunger for the one precious gift he still had, his one constant in a world of terrifying unknowns: the extraordinary woman beneath him. She was his only reality, his world, his lifeblood. And he gripped her that bit tighter, moved just that bit deeper inside her and gasped incoherent words of adoration against her swollen lips, as though pouring all his distress into their kisses, as though driving every ounce of his sorrow into the place where their bodies were joined. For weeks he had hungered for the solace he found in her, and as she had arched into him, her body responding to his every move, he had watched her in fervent awe as though never wanting to let her go. He'd wanted to tell her what had happened to him - that the borders had been closed and he'd had to struggle the rest of the way on foot - but he'd found that words evaded him and instead he'd loved her with his body, silently willing her to succumb to him. And she had held his darkened gaze unashamedly, a reassurance that she was still very much there with him, as she always would be, sharing the oxygen around them through their heated gasps.

When the physical pleasure had begun to mix with the emotional chaos it had built excruciatingly slowly - he had savoured every second of worshipping her body, deliberately putting off the inevitable, holding her so tightly that they were eye to eye and toe to toe. And Maria had found she could barely breathe as he took her beyond the here and now to a rare place of carnal desire, a place of pain and comfort and mayhem as reality fell away and time stood still, the overwhelming pleasure and despair building to dizzying new heights.

When the ecstasy finally came, she had watched, dumbstruck, as his entire body had stiffened, the muscles of his back rippling under her fingernails and his handsome face crumbling with the strain of suppressing the strangled cry that threatened to tear from his lungs. Never before had she shared such an intimacy - to watch such a reserved and conservative man come apart for her - and the force of it stirred her so deeply that her body surrendered entirely to him, following his lead into the heights of a rapture and the depths of a primitive emotion she had never before experienced.

She'd barely caught her breath before he'd collapsed on top of her and buried his face in the valley between her breasts, his tears mixing with their sweat as his body shook with the force of the silent sobs that had suddenly claimed him. It was as though their vulnerable intimacy had allowed the floodgates of his heart to finally burst open, providing an outlet for all the repressed emotion that, until now, had yet to be fully released. And oh how it had hurt him to finally let go, how it had hurt him to love her alongside the raw turmoil that he'd finally allowed to seep from the deepest recesses of his heart. He had clung to her desperately then, crying for his homeland, crying for his children, for his countrymen, for his home, for his friend.. For the _whole world_ as though it were doomed - and she had held him close to her, weeping with him and stroking his thick hair silently in comfort, knowing there was nothing she could say to ease the harshness of this reality. She had held him and kissed him until the wild beating of his heart and the wracking force of his sobs had finally subsided and he had drifted off into a restless slumber in her arms.

* * *

 **A/N: I wasn't sure whether to make this chapter an M but I thought it was tastefully done and focused a lot more on the emotion than the actual physicality so I hope you don't mind! I feel like the harsh reality they found themselves in at this point would have led to such an intimacy between them. Just a quick note, my Switzerland geography is appalling so excuse any errors I may have included. And obviously the war wasn't declared anywhere near this close to the Anchluss but this is for the sake of the story too :) Please do review, I love hearing people's interpretations!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: thanks so much for the latest reviews. Here's the next update - I'm not sure it's as good as the last one but I suppose the last chapter was pretty intense.**

* * *

He'd awoken in her arms a few hours later with a start, confused and alarmed by his surroundings and it had startled her from her slumber. She'd grasped his face in her hands then and feathered kisses across his cheeks until understanding dawned and he'd relaxed into her with a sigh of relief. They had only an hour or so before the children would wake and discover her missing from her nested position on the floor in the main bedroom, and so he'd pulled her closer, their naked bodies still glowing from the aftermath of their passion, and he'd gradually told her in hushed whispers about everything that had come to pass since they'd parted ways. It was difficult for him, she knew, to voice his fears, to assign his feelings to words - and he'd set his jaw in frustration, his voice hollow and unfeeling as he tried to shove his emotions aside. Maria had stroked her fingers through his hair reassuringly as he spoke, a gesture that she knew would soon become a habit of hers, one that she delighted in - only _she_ would ever have the privilege of such an intimacy with Captain von Trapp. When he finally spoke of Max's sacrifice, his hard voice suddenly cracked with emotion and Maria found her hand had flown to her mouth in dismay.

" _Oh, darling_ ," she murmured into Georg's hair compassionately, praying that Max was at least safe, that he'd found his own sanctuary, that he'd somehow made his own escape. The thought of the jovial impresario cooped up in a prison cell, no better than Zeller, filled her with overwhelming sadness. The sheer injustice of such a bright soul being imprisoned was difficult to comprehend.

"He'll have got away," she whispered into the shell of Georg's ear as his words faded into a saddened silence, "that charming sponge manages to weasel his way out of anything, remember?"

He gave a weak smile before reaching down and pulling the covers back wordlessly, slowly revealing her bare breasts to him. Instinctively her arms moved to cover herself up but he gently pushed them away, leaving her skin exposed as he looked upon her hungrily and traced the curves of her body featherlight with his fingertips. At first she thought he was about to end their difficult conversation and turn to her for another physical expression of his emotional struggle, but he made no move to do so. Instead his gaze simply followed the path of his fingers adoringly and then glazed over slightly as though he were deep in thought. She wanted to ask him what was going on behind those darkened eyes but instead she allowed him the silence he needed as he caressed her heated skin, feeling the way her chest began to rise and fall more rapidly under his touch.

As the atmosphere began to thicken with silent desire, he eventually nuzzled into her neck and inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of roses and lavendar soothing his soul just as it had done all those months ago when he'd suffered from amnesia - though he hadn't understood it back then.

"I want to wait here for him," he whispered, his voice thick with a mixture of despair and lust as he licked at her mouth gently, anchoring her body assertively below his own, "at least for a little while."

Maria could only nod submissively, the sensation of his open mouth hot against her skin and his tongue dancing across her lips leaving her entirely incoherent. She knew what he'd said was incredibly important, that they would need to stay in Davos for a time before they moved on if Max were to have any chance of finding them again, but she found her mind was too hazy to consider the implications of his words.

"I have enough money to keep us going for now," he murmured against her breast before taking a nipple in his mouth and suckling possessively, causing the flames to unfurl in her stomach, "I want to _stay_."

Maria knew it wasn't a request, it was a command - a command that suddenly matched his movements as he pulled her closer assertively, covering her mouth again with his own in a languid kiss that was relentless and demanding, leaving her dizzy with need.

Where their previous lovemaking had been conceived in emotional bedlam, this particular encounter seemed to be all about the physical. He pinned her with his hips and raised their arms above her head, his eyes burning into hers as he wordlessly asked permission to make free with her body. And she found herself acquiescing to his silent request with delighted anticipation and the complete absence of fear - wrapping her long legs around his waist in a flagrant invitation that elicited a low growl from her lover.

Before, it had been slow and agonising, the pleasure building at an excruciatingly unhurried pace. _But now_ \- now he seemed to be claiming her in every possible way, rocking their bodies to the heights of pleasure before she'd even had a chance to catch her breath. His eyes conveyed nothing but love and adoration, but his body seemed to be driven by a masculine, animalistic need. He was gentle and protective, yet dominant and insistent all at once and she found that every inch of her body seemed to respond arduously to his possessive ministrations.

Every nerve sizzled, every synapse fired as he took her again and again, his blazing eyes never leaving hers as they lost themselves in the pleasure of one another. As the waves finally began to crash throughout her body, the world fell away once again and Maria found herself clinging to the abyss that they were sharing, knowing that they had precious little time left before they'd have to face reality once more and confront the uncertainty of a new day.

* * *

When the sun had begun to rise, Maria had slipped from his arms and snuck back to the main bedroom through the shadows to her place on the floor. At one point she could've sworn Leisl's eyes had snapped open and caught her in the act, but when she'd studied the girl more closely she'd looked as though she was sleeping soundly, none the wiser to her Fraulein's little indiscretion. When everybody had finally risen with the day, Maria and Georg had pulled together a makeshift breakfast from the remainder of the food they'd managed to salvage from the ground after their emotional reunion. Some of it had been spoiled after Maria had dropped it, much to her dismay, but some they'd managed to save and bring back to the accommodation with them.

All nine of them were huddled on the double bed sharing the bread, meats and cheeses sombrely when Georg suddenly fixed her with a knowing look and the hint of a smile. She'd known what he was trying to tell her in those moments - they were safe, they were together, they were a family, and it was time to tell their children about their love for one another.

Clearing his throat, he'd risen from the bed slowly and gestured for Maria to join him, grasping her hand in his as seven pairs of bewildered eyes had snapped to attention to watch them.

"Children.." He'd said, suddenly appearing adorably nervous, "I.. We.. There's something we'd like to tell you.. To _ask_ you.."

Six sets of eyes had narrowed suspiciously while Leisl's had widened with joy, a smile spreading across her youthful face that Maria couldn't help but return.

"I asked your Fraulein to come with us on this journey not just because she's your governess but because... Well, because I love her very much," he'd explained, wrapping an arm around Maria's shoulder, "and - "

" _Everybody_ loves Fraulein Maria father," Marta had interrupted matter of factly, rolling her eyes and eliciting a frustrated _shush_ from Leisl. Dawning understanding had begun to spread across the faces of the three eldest children but for the youngest, the penny still hadn't dropped.

"Well _yes_.." Georg stammered, "but, when two _grown ups_ love each other - "

"Like how you and _uncle Max_ love each other?" Gretl had asked innocently.

Maria's heart had sunk as she'd seen Georg's eyes flicker with sadness at the mention of his friend's name, "not _quite_ like that sweetheart," he'd choked.

When no more words had come, Maria had clasped his hand tighter and turned to her charges, "what your father is trying to tell you, children, is that he and I love each other very much and would like to get married - if you would like that too of course.."

An eerie silence had reverberated off the walls after she'd spoken and her heart had begun to thud against her chest under the intense scrutiny of seven little faces with eyes narrowed. But much to her relief the little ones had suddenly erupted in cheers of happiness and before she'd known it, Leisl had been wrapping her in a hug while Friedrich had clasped his father's hand in a congratulatory shake, the little ones grasping around their legs in excitable celebration. Maria had breathed a sigh of relief then and had felt her eyes prick with humble tears - knowing that, despite the war, despite the destruction of life as they'd known it, despite the loss and the grief and the unpredictability - she was utterly blessed to have received the love of this wonderful family.

* * *

Ten days had passed since that precious moment and the nine of them had fallen into as normal a routine as was possible under their circumstances. Their accommodation was still available to them and the owners asked very few questions as long as Georg could make payment each day. Maria had managed to gather some materials and a small sowing kit from a local store to add to what little clothes they had, they'd found a small church that they could attend on Sundays, and when the sun was shining they would make a habit of taking walks along the riverbed.

Despite the simplicity of their life in Davos, Maria knew that the money Georg had with him wouldn't last forever and war was breaking out right across the border. It wouldn't be long before it became unsafe here and there was still no sign of Max. She'd been starting to lose hope, thinking that perhaps it was time they left Switzerland, but she knew she would need to approach the topic carefully when she decided to talk about it with Georg.

Paying the desk clerk and gathering her small grocery shop in her bag, Maria left the store she'd been in and made her way back to the bed and breakfast. Upon arrival she found the place empty and put the food and other provisions to one side, finding a note on the bed explaining that Georg and the children were down in their favourite spot by the river. She smiled to herself absentmindedly - it was a beautiful afternoon and the weather was perfect for meandering by the water. It had filled her with joy these past few days, watching Georg gradually return to himself, the hopelessness slowly fading from his face when surrounded by the love of his family.

There were times when she'd still see the darkness lurking in his eyes, moments when she'd find him pensive and brooding, lost to his woeful thoughts. But she would wrap her arms around him, or kiss his lips gently, and a small smile would grace his handsome features. She longed to see his dimples again, the very same dimples that dented his cheeks when he grinned broadly or succumbed to a deep, boyish laugh that lit up his features and filled her with a tender rush of love. But she knew it might be a while before he smiled like that again.

She made her way outside into the peaceful ambience of the late afternoon and wandered down the little hill that led to the riverbank where she, Georg and the children had spent recent days walking in the sunshine or skimming stones along the water. Enjoying the sensation of the sun low in the sky as it kissed at her exposed skin, she thought about how she'd come to like Davos - it was a beautiful, green place after all, with lots of wilderness and nooks and crannies to explore - it reminded her very much of the villages near her mountain and it made her long for home. She knew she'd be sad to leave this place.

Eventually she rounded the corner and spotted the children down by the bank but, much to her confusion, Georg was nowhere to be seen. Her brow furrowed slightly as she stepped closer, finding the children huddled together suspiciously as they watched her approach, whispering secretively and grinning from ear to ear - she suspected, with an inward smile, that they were up to no good. Just as she was about to ask them what they were doing and where their father was, they suddenly stood up straight in formation and, much to her bewilderment, they began to sing.

" _What on earth.."_ She muttered, watching their little faces light up as the notes of _The Sound of Music_ rang out against the backdrop of the gradually setting sun, their voices every bit as beautiful as they had been the very first day she'd heard them. She watched, baffled, as they continued their soulful melody, her eyes full of questions, until Leisl caught her gaze with a broad grin and gave an inclination of her head towards a nearby tree.

Maria spun round to follow the girl's eye line and what she saw suddenly took her breath away. There, in one of the surrounding willows, with deep dimples etched into his handsome face, the very same dimples that made her weak at the knees, was Georg, his long legs dangling from the branch playfully as he gazed down at her with a boyish grin spread across his features. On the bark next to him was a marking, one that she'd seen before, and she knew instantly what it was. It was another symbol of hope, another representation of love - another beautifully carved "M+G".

Wordlessly, he reached out a hand to her from his position on the branch, and she found her feet moving her closer of their own accord, her mouth hanging open in bewilderment. When she finally grasped his outstretched fingers, he helped her up into the tree and settled her next to him, never taking his eyes from hers. The children's sweet voices rose high above them as they watched on knowingly and Maria was convinced her heart was about to burst from her ribs.

Georg brought her hand to his lips then and kissed it gently before placing her palm against his chest where his own heart thundered for her.

"I know it's not _our_ tree," he murmured, stroking his fingertips down her cheek with an adorable smile, "but I wanted to give you the next best thing."

Maria could only stare at him in awe, words entirely failing her as a rich warmth spread throughout her entire body.

"Now, I don't have a ring," he smiled bashfully, "but I _do_ have a quartet," he gestured to his singing brood, "and I have a sunset," he looked to the hills where the sun had begun to kiss the peaks of the Alps, "and I have a beautiful woman by my side.."

She blushed deeply then and his smile only broadened. He wondered briefly whether she'd always blush like that in his arms. He hoped that she would.

"I can't give you the real proposal you deserve Maria but I _can_ give you my whole heart, my soul, my everything - until we grow old together," he murmured, his eyes burning with adoration, "well, older, in my case..."

They shared a wry smile as a lump began to form in Maria's throat.

"I know the future is uncertain but there's one thing I've never been surer of," he whispered, "I want to spend the rest of it with you by my side," he kissed her cheek where the skin still prickled from his touch, the light stubble of his jaw brushing against her and causing her to burn all over, " _marry me my darling_ ," he murmured into the shell of her ear, leaving her entirely breathless.

She was struck dumb by his moving gesture, rendered utterly speechless by the love she saw reflected back at her in his blue eyes, and all she could do was nod wordlessly, her face breaking into a watery grin as the tears of joy that pricked her eyes threatened to fall. He laughed heartily then, pulling her into an embrace, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and sank against him to a sudden chorus of whoops and cheers from their young audience on the ground. A buoyant laugh tore from her own throat then, finding nothing but joy in the faces of their little brood as they waved up at her from their musical formation. She sighed contentedly against Georg's chest, his strong arms encasing her protectively as she listened to the soft thrum of his heartbeat. Never before had she felt so loved, so needed, so cherished. And she knew, as she nuzzled into his masculine frame, that despite the desperate circumstances, despite the impending danger, despite the ugliness of war, she was very much exactly where she belonged.

* * *

That evening they celebrated as a family underneath the willow tree as the last of the sunshine faded behind the hills. Georg was sat with his back against the trunk, his legs stretched out before him on the grass as he watched his children taking part in a boisterous stone skimming competition not too far away. He grinned to himself as he watched Gretl attempt to skim a small stone and miss the water completely, stamping her foot impatiently as it bounced off the riverbed and dropped into the river with a heavy plonk.

He caught Maria's eye and she gave him a breathtaking smile before coming to join him against the trunk of the tree. She sank into a sitting position next to him and took his hand, pressing it to her lips as she too watched the children play their game as though oblivious to the danger lying on their doorstep. It was an incredibly beautiful sight, observing them in all their childish innocence as they exuded a sense of calm and tranquility that left her feeling entirely at peace.

"Louisa takes the competitive element rather seriously doesn't she.." She laughed, watching the girl becoming increasingly more insistent on the edge of the riverbank.

"I have absolutely _no idea_ where she gets it from," Georg replied in mock obliviousness, eliciting an amused raise of the eyebrows from his fiancé.

"No, I can't _possibly_ imagine.." She retorted sarcastically and he smiled, wanting very much to give her another kiss but knowing it was most likely inappropriate in public and in front of their children.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they watched the game unfolding, his fingertips tracing absentmindedly up and down her forearm as they relaxed against one another. She knew that she ran the risk of ruining such a precious moment, of spoiling the blanket of peace that had temporarily shrouded them, but she wanted to say what needed to be said before she lost her nerve.

Choosing her words carefully, she leant closer to him, her eyes glazed with concern, " _Georg..."_

"I know." He stated, before she'd even had a chance to speak, tearing his saddened eyes from the children and meeting her compassionate gaze in silent understanding, "I know. We need to leave Switzerland."

She gripped his hand tighter, stroking the side of his face in comfort, " _He'll be okay_ ," she whispered, wanting to reassure him that his guilt about leaving Max behind was entirely unfounded.

"It's my fault though," he choked, his face hardening, "he could be anywhere. I just _left him_."

"But he was _right_ Georg, you had a family that needed you," she chastised, desperately trying to make him see reason before she lost him to the despair that still haunted his eyes, "we would've been entirely lost if you hadn't found us."

He set his jaw in anguish, pulling her closer still and instinctively she knew he needed to lose himself in her body again. She'd already become accustomed to the telltale signs of his longing for her - the way he'd move their bodies closer, the way he'd clench his jaw in frustration, the way his eyes would darken with a heady lust that set her body alight. They had barely touched each other since their emotional night together when Georg had first found them, and the lack of intimacy was beginning to take its toll. Maria had found herself lying away most nights in her nest on the floor, consumed with flashbacks of heated gasps against skin and skilled fingers marking her flesh, leaving her ragged and desperate, a deep ache settling in her groin as she thought of him only mere feet away in the second bedroom. It must've been equally, if not more frustrating for him, she knew - to be unable to find solace in her body when he craved it most. Instead, they had settled for quick, chaste kisses when the children were otherwise occupied. But it was nowhere near enough.

"I need you so badly," he growled suddenly, his words reaching into her ears and striking an arrow straight to her heart, "I need it so badly I can still _taste_ you."

Liquid fire roared to life in the pit of her stomach before it was extinguished abruptly by Marta running over and showing them a flower she'd picked from the riverbank. Maria managed to regain just enough composure to tell the girl it was lovely, watching her scamper back to her siblings happily, before she turned back Georg.

" _Soon,"_ she managed to choke, and he nodded dangerously, kissing her hand again and leaving a searing mark where his lips made contact.

He sighed sombrely and looked out towards his children again, his brow furrowed in thought.

"We'll marry here in Davos in the little church," he eventually murmured, meeting her gaze again with sorrowful eyes, "and then we'll move on. As husband and wife."

She nodded reassuringly, placing a loving kiss on his lips and praying that her eyes conveyed everything words couldn't, "yes my darling," she whispered, " _As husband and wife."_

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you liked Georg's little gesture. Oh, Christopher Plummer's dimples! I can imagine Georg wanting to give Maria his best shot in terms of giving her a proper proposal so I hope I did it justice. Next update very soon and the story will be gradually drawing to its natural end! Thanks for sticking with me.**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: hope you enjoy this next chapter! Quick note, I don't know too much about Catholicism so please excuse me if get anything a bit off the mark!**

* * *

Maria told herself that she wouldn't lie with Georg again until they were married in a few days time - it wasn't like they'd had much opportunity to be alone anyway - not with seven children in tow. She couldn't deny she'd been finding the lack of intimacy increasingly more difficult, especially now she knew exactly what love could be like between a man and a woman. Surely though, she had enough self control to wait the short time before they were finally wed. After their engagement, Georg had spoken to the local priest who they'd met at Sunday mass down in the village church, agreeing on a date for the ceremony - and the knowledge that they'd soon be joined in matrimony had given the entire family something to look forward to, a celebration of love and purity in a time of so much pain and confusion.

But as it was, she hadn't been able to stop herself from going to him after their stirring conversation underneath the willow tree. She hadn't _meant_ to, it had been completely accidental. Lying awake staring at the ceiling for what felt like the millionth night in a row, she'd been unable to sleep, her mind reeling with memories of what it had been like to be pinned beneath him, encased by skin and muscle and _man_ all those nights ago. And so, overwhelmed with frustrated lust, she'd made her way to the tiny bathroom in the early hours of the morning to splash some cool water on her face and calm her fast beating heart.

She'd had every intention of returning to her nest on the floor, of sticking to the stringent rules she'd set for herself, of resisting temptation. But she'd suddenly stumbled upon him in the tiny hallway on her way back to bed, and all reason had immediately slipped like grains of sand from her mind. They'd both stopped dead in their tracks on the landing, their eyes locking through the shadows in a dangerous stare that spoke of nothing but heat and needy desire. He'd been shirtless, leaving a hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach, the skin peppered with hair pulled tight across his muscular chest as his body stiffened with the telltale signs of his need. They'd said nothing, their breathing becoming more laboured as the silent anticipation had begun to build - a wordless understanding suddenly dawning between them that, entirely by accident, they'd managed to find themselves very much alone.

And that was all it had taken for them to lose all control, to suddenly close the short distance between them and throw themselves into each other's arms, the opportunity for uninterrupted intimacy far too delicious to ignore. Somewhere amidst the chaos of her thundering heartbeat and their ferocious mouths crashing together, she'd felt his solid arms lift her from the ground as her mutinous legs acted of their own accord and wrapped themselves around his waist. He'd shoved her up against the wall then, almost roughly, the dull thud of their bodies against the plaster apparently not enough to bring him back to his senses. He'd been ravenous, ragged, desperate as he'd pressed every inch of himself against her, licking at her mouth, tasting the rapid pulse at the base of her throat, and the urgency in his blackened eyes had left her almost unbearably aroused.

"Oh god, how I've _ached for you_ ," he'd growled, eliciting a violent shudder throughout her entire body - she'd suddenly been grateful that he had her pinned with his hips, for her knees would surely have buckled beneath her from the effect of his words. Inwardly, her conscience had screamed at her for going back on her promise to herself but the rebellious side of her had shouted over it, winning out on the premise that life was short, life was uncertain, and the unspeakable things he was doing to her body were too exquisite to ignore.

Logic entirely lost to the rapidly building tension in her body, she'd given a whimper and dug her fingernails into his bare shoulders as his mouth had descended on her breasts through the light material of her nightgown, the pull tugging all the way to her burning loins.

He'd growled again in frustration at the lack of skin to skin contact, and tried desperately to tug the material aside, "I want to taste you _everywhere_ sweetheart.." He'd murmured, and again she'd found his words setting her alight. Who was she to refuse him? She'd given another whimper of approval and wordlessly he'd carried her to the tiny bedroom, locking the door behind them and laying her down on the covers, tearing her nightclothes down her body impatiently.

When they'd first laid together, Georg had worried he'd been too rough, too demanding, too primal in his urges as he'd lost himself to his need and ravished her completely. He'd chastised himself later for losing control, for being selfish with his wants and taking her as his only relief. But, much to his surprise, she hadn't been frightened, she hadn't shied away from his primitivity, and instead she'd proven herself to be his equal in every way. Not only had she been his anchor during a time of unspeakable turmoil, she'd responded ardently to his every physical need on that very first night, not because of some twisted sense of duty but because her needs, her desires, had matched his own.

And so, in light of her unrepressed passion, he'd vowed to hold nothing back from her in the way he expressed his love with his body. He'd spent too many days, too many weeks, too many months attempting to bury his feelings, attempting to swallow the anguish that shrouded his soul. It was utterly exhausting to lock it all away. He may not have been able to open up to her completely about the inner turmoil that sometimes threatened to engulf him but _this_ , this burning need for the woman he loved, this primal desperation to be one with her, this overwhelming desire to express his love physically _\- this_ he would not suppress.

On this particular occasion however, he'd resigned himself to putting his own needs to one side, to give her what she so desperately craved. She'd been more than he could've hoped for when she'd come to him in the middle of the night all those days ago and he wanted to show her that love between a man and a woman, the needs shared between a man and woman, could take many different forms. And it was time that she was put first.

She'd watched, breathless, as he'd removed the remainder of his own clothes and climbed onto the bed at her feet. She'd held her arms out to him, expecting him to cover her body with his own - but instead she'd felt the scrape of his jaw against her inner thigh, the dizzying sensation of his hot breath on her skin, and his mouth was suddenly descending upon her, his hands anchoring her by the hips as he nudged her silken legs over his shoulders.

Repressing a strangled cry at the unexpected and almost unbearable sensation of his tongue against her, she'd suddenly known _exactly_ what he'd meant when he'd said he wanted to taste her everywhere. It hadn't occurred to her that people even _did_ this kind of thing, to kiss these particular parts of their lover's anatomy - but now that she'd experienced it, now that she'd felt his exquisitely soft tongue loving her there - she couldn't possibly imagine ever denying herself such a startling intimacy.

His kisses had been gentle, languid, loving, but insistent and she'd found herself writhing beneath him as his mouth had moved against her slowly, arching into his ministrations with reckless abandon. As the antagonising tension had begun to climb from the very place he'd been worshipping her and spread throughout the rest of her body, she'd noticed briefly that Georg seemed different this time - he'd been more tender, more delicate, more gentle, and she could tell that he was chiefly focusing on her pleasure, rather than his own desperate need for release. Where last time he'd taken her body as his own, this time he'd been adoring her with the deepest affection. And she'd found herself begging for the relief, pleading in strangled whispers for him to take the rhythm higher, her fingers twining into his hair and pulling him closer until finally the gentle flick of his tongue had sent her spiralling into the depths of euphoria.

Limp and panting, long minutes had passed before she'd pulled him up to meet her, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him close for comfort as she fought for air. She'd wrapped her legs around his waist obediently then, but he'd kissed her gently with his swollen mouth and refused her tempting invitation, despite the relentless ache in his lower body. Worrying that she'd done something wrong, she'd pulled back to look at him with a confused frown, her eyes filled with questions.

"The next time I love you, my darling," he'd explained, his voice low and husky as he stroked her face adoringly, "I want it to be as your husband."

* * *

Maria felt her cheeks grow hot with frustration as she attempted to finish the last few stitches of her new dress, the needle pricking her finger slightly as she made to pull the thread through the material. She made a sound of disapproval, an uncharacteristic profanity waiting on her lips in response to the pain - but she stopped the word just in time and bent back to her task, tutting in annoyance instead.

" _My my,_ Fraulein," Georg's voice interrupted her reverie from the doorway. She spun around to find him leaning against the frame, a lazy smirk plastered across his face as his words dripped with mirth, "is it possible, or could I have just imagined it.. Was my ex-postulant fiancé about to _curse_?"

"You shouldn't be in here!" She chastised, using her lithe frame to block his view of the material she was working on, "you'll see my dress! It's bad luck!"

Georg raised his eyebrows, amused. Shortly after his proposal, he'd given her some money and insisted that she buy some new material for a wedding dress. It wouldn't be anything like a traditional wedding gown, their budget and time being limited, but she'd managed to find a gorgeous light cream material that she'd worked tirelessly on, to turn into a garment worthy of a humble bride.

"I think we've had enough bad luck to last us a lifetime," Georg scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest, "didn't you know it's also bad luck for me to see my bride on the day of the wedding?"

"Well hurry, get out of here!" She cried, scandalised, "go and watch the children like you're supposed to be doing!"

"Will you always be this bossy when we're married?" He teased, stepping closer.

"Shoo!" She exclaimed, sweeping her hands at him emphatically until he raised his arms in mock defeat.

"Okay okay, I'm going," he grinned, "I'll make myself scarce until I see you at the church, my love."

"You'll be lucky if I don't leave you waiting at the alter!" she teased, laughing at his expression of mock horror that was soon replaced by a crooked smile. He blew her a kiss before turning on his heels, but she called his name just before he left.

"Yes darling?" He spun back to face her.

"I can't wait," she beamed and he flashed her a devilish grin, the dimples in his cheeks leaving her breathless before he turned and left her to complete her important task.

Once the final stitching was in place, she fanned the finished dress out in front of her and studied her work. It was very simple, much like the blue chiffon dress she'd managed to salvage before fleeing, and a delicate bow adorned the middle, pulling the material in at the waist. She had no veil, no train, no bouquet, but as she slipped into the garment and stepped in front of the grimy mirror in the corner of the bedroom, she couldn't help but feel beautiful. She'd never been one for lavish things and 'beautiful' had certainly never been a word she'd used to describe herself very often, but she knew, as she studied her reflection, that Georg would find her breathtaking in all her simplicity.

She smiled to herself as warmth spread low in her body at the thought of him stood at the alter waiting for her later that day. How handsome and joyful he would look, even without his naval uniform, even without a best man by his side..

Her smile faded as her mind wandered to thoughts of Max, a constant reminder that life would never be what it was, that so much had already been lost to a war that had barely begun. She knew Georg would be thinking of his friend more so today than any other day, and she wished he would confide in her, she wished he would come to her and tell her of his sadness. But she knew he would keep it to himself - at least while they were celebrating their love for one another - he would do everything in his power to make the occasion perfect, a happy memory amidst the haze of solemn ones.

It felt like mere minutes that she'd been lost in her thoughts but it must've been far longer, for the children suddenly tore into the room in excitement, buzzing around her and fussing over their own appearances as they filled the room with chatter.

"Good Lord, is it time already?!" She cried in a panic, feeling entirely unprepared, "where's your father?"

"He's at the church, of course" Friedrich replied, scouring the room for a lost shoe, finding it in the corner and scrubbing at it with his shirt sleeve.

"We're to escort you there shortly," Kurt beamed proudly, attempting to flatten his hair in the nearby mirror.

Maria's heart swelled at the effort they were all making, the girls were styling their hair into beautiful plaits while the boys did their best to shine their shoes and straighten their shirts. They didn't have much to go on, having left the majority of their clothes back in Austria, but they scrubbed up well and she couldn't have been prouder to have them by her side.

"We made you something... _Mother_ ," Louisa edged forward shyly hiding something behind her back, her cheeks reddening at the use of the new endearment, but she soon grinned back when Maria fixed her with a loving smile, "we thought you might like to have it with you today."

She brought the gift out from behind her back and Maria felt a lump form in her throat at the simple, yet moving gesture. It was a homemade bouquet of wild flowers and Edelweiss that she guessed they'd picked from their favourite spot on the riverbank, and she couldn't think of anything more perfect to walk down the aisle with. Here they all stood, these seven little souls, with nothing to give her but their love, and yet they'd gone above and beyond to welcome her as their new mother. Their startling selflessness moved her to tears.

"Thank you my dears," she croaked, words failing her as their little faces beamed with pride.

* * *

It hadn't taken her long to get ready, Leisl having helped her into her dress before fussing with her hair until Maria had grown tired of the incessant pampering and politely told the girl that her crop was unlikely to hold any kind of style for longer than a minute. Leisl huffed in defeat but soon gushed in adoration as Maria stood and gently twirled in the finished dress.

"Oh my goodness, you look radiant!" The girl gasped, clapping her hands together with glee, "father is simply going to _die_ when he sees you!"

"Well that would be slightly inconvenient," Maria quipped, slipping into her shoes and taking one final look in the mirror with a satisfied nod before picking up her bouquet and joining the rest of the children in the little hallway. Their heads snapped to attention as she moved from the room and the girls gave equal gasps of delight - even Louisa, who'd almost always resented having to wear a dress, flashed her a smile of approval.

Friedrich held out his arm to her adorably and Maria slipped her hand into it, allowing him to escort her down the stairs to the foyer with the other six in tow. Much to her surprise, the owners, who were busy behind the desk in the lobby, flashed her a celebratory grin and wished her every happiness as she passed. She'd felt herself go beetroot then - she'd thought the owners had assumed she and Georg were _already_ husband and wife, what with sharing a family room for the last two weeks - but they made no indication of judgement or scorn as they waved her off through the doors and into the mellow heat of the summer afternoon.

It wasn't until they began making their way down the hill towards the little church that her heart truly began to pound, the significance of what was about to take place hitting her squarely in the chest for the first time since Georg's proposal. She was about to officially walk away from the only life she'd ever known, she was about to share her love with a man instead of giving herself entirely to God, she was about to take the first step down an uncertain new path with the complex, breathtaking individual who'd stolen her heart. She was a mountain girl, an orphan, a nobody, and now a refugee - but she was about to become a von Trapp, a baroness, and a mother all at once. And she realised, with a startling sense of peace, that she'd never been more sure of anything in her entire life.

Clutching her bouquet closer to her thundering heart, she spotted the priest waiting for them outside the church doors and he gave a wide smile as he moved to greet her. Bowing to his hand, she straightened and smoothed her dress as the children made their way into the church, Leisl turning and giving her shoulder a loving squeeze before disappearing behind the heavy doors. Only Friedrich remained, making no move to follow his brothers and sisters.

"Friedrich?" She questioned, puzzled.

"Yes mother?"

"Aren't you going inside?"

His boyish face set stubbornly and he stuck his chin out in proud defiance, " _someone's_ got to give you away," he stated simply, but the hidden meaning behind his words suddenly struck her. It couldn't have been more fitting. After all, did she not belong to the children far before she ever belonged to Georg? Who better to give her away than one of the charges who were willing to share her love with their father.

Speechless, she clutched at his arm again, more to prevent her knees from buckling than anything else, and then she heard the burst of the little organ coming from inside and Friedrich was gently pulling her through the entranceway with a large grin plastered to his face.

And just as she thought her lungs couldn't possibly fail her any more, there was her groom, _her_ _Georg_ , standing at the alter and turning to face her with such devotion in his tearful eyes that it knocked the remaining breath out of her. He was wearing a beautiful suit she didn't recognise and she realised, with a rush of fierce tenderness as he gave her a knowing smile meant only for her, that he must've borrowed one, or hired one especially. It moved her deeply to know he would go to all the trouble even when times were so hard.

Georg von Trapp was a practical man. Even once a boisterous young governess had barrelled into his life and opened up his soul all those months ago, he still didn't much allow himself to wear his heart on his sleeve. But as he drank in the sight of his angelic bride, as though she were sent directly to him from heaven, he resigned himself to the fact that this woman would most likely see him shed far many more tears than he would've liked. Both for joy and for sorrow. But as she floated gracefully towards him, her beautiful face breaking into a smile that made him want to sink to his knees, it was the former that he felt springing to his eyes. _Oh how he loved her. How he owed his life to her._ He felt his chest entirely constrict at the thought of how he might've had to do all of this without her by his side. Surely life would've been too difficult to bear. She was a blessing he had never deserved.

Swallowing past the painful lump in his throat, he reached out a strong hand to her and gripped her dainty fingers tightly, as though afraid she were merely a mirage. Never taking his eyes from her face he was vaguely aware of the priest reciting their vows, and his mouth answered for him where it should, but he may as well have been rehearsing Shakespeare for all he knew. All he could hear was the pounding in his ears as he studied her delicate face in reverent awe. After all, he'd heard all these words before - it was only the woman by his side, whose fragile lips were confirming her lifelong commitment to him, that he felt he was suddenly seeing for the very first time.

Her eyes locked with his then, as the priest's words echoed around them and the adoration he saw in her gaze, the joy he found in her youthful face, it caused his fast-beating heart to kick into the next gear.

"If anyone should know of any lawful reason as to why these two cannot be joined in holy matrimony -"

Georg resisted the urge to sweep his fingers across her rosy lips, knowing he'd be allowed to kiss his new bride at any moment, the anticipation almost too much to bear. But before he'd had a chance to catch his breath, the doors of the church suddenly burst open and a voice cried something that made his blood run cold in his veins.

 _"I object!"_

He froze, dread unfurling in his stomach as he watched Maria's beautiful face fall as if in slow motion, the obscene declaration reverberating off the stone walls and rattling around in his brain like jagged stones. The protective beast within him threatened to rise up and tear to shreds whoever had dared to interrupt his wedding day and wipe the breathtaking smile from his bride's innocent face. He spun round, entirely ready for battle, his face thundering with unrelenting rage - until he spotted the culprit at the end of the aisle and the entire world suddenly shifted under his feet, his legs threatening to buckle beneath him.

"Well... it's not a _lawful_ reason," the offender quipped, tugging at his moustache cheekily and eyeing the gobsmacked faces of his audience as he attempted to catch his breath, "but she's definitely _way_ too good for him!"

Georg simply forgot how to breathe. He was rooted to the spot, his mind hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. Surely it was entirely impossible. Surely his eyes were deceiving him.

"I thought you might be in need of a best man, my friend."

There was no mistaking that devilish grin...

 _Max._

* * *

 **A/N: not sure if that was entirely too predictable but I went with it anyway! We'll finally find out what happened to our cheeky chappy in the next chapter**


	23. Chapter 23

Georg simply forgot how to breathe. He was rooted to the spot, his mind hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. Surely it was entirely impossible. Surely his eyes were deceiving him.

"I thought you might be in need of a best man, my friend."

There was no mistaking that devilish grin...

 _Max._

Before Georg could blink, before he could attempt to shift the world the right way up again, before he could choke for the breath his lungs so desperately needed, his feet were carrying him down the aisle and he was breaking into a run, terrified that if he didn't move fast enough it might all turn out to be nothing more than a hallucination and his friend's ghostly duplicate would suddenly disappear before his very eyes. But he didn't disappear. He merely grinned wider, opening his arms to Georg until they finally collided in a bear hug embrace that nearly knocked the impresario off his feet. Max winced a little as though in pain but his rumbling laughter could soon be heard above Georg's thundering heartbeat and before long the bewildered children were suddenly enveloping the two men in fierce hugs of joy and wonder, their little arms wrapping around any part of their uncle and father they could reach.

Maria's own heart hammered against her ribs from her place at the alter, entirely overwhelmed by a deep and stirring sense of joy that manifested itself in the tears that sprung to her eyes and the wide smile that spread across her features. She watched the touching scene, her hand pressed to her heart in empathy as her stoic groom attempted to keep his composure, his jaw clenched in his efforts to bite back the raw emotion that threatened to show itself as he clung to his friend. How beautiful he was, how fierce and passionate the emotion that lay hidden beneath the seemingly impassive exterior. It moved Maria deeply to know that only those closest to him would ever see the stirring man underneath.

He pulled out of Max's embrace and looked back at her then, catching her eye in a watery smile of elation that took her breath away - and he beckoned her over, silently willing her to take her rightful place beside the family. It wasn't long before her own arms were wrapped around Max, the joyful tears spilling over onto her cheeks not only for herself but for Georg, who's happiness was _her_ happiness, who's sadness was _her_ sadness, who's every struggle and every triumph would be hers to feel just as he did.

" _How in God's name_.." Georg began, finally finding his voice as his bride embraced the impresario, who looked equally as disheveled as Georg himself had done when he'd first made it to Davos.

"Later Georg," Max interrupted, cupping each of the children's beaming faces with a withered hand, "I'll explain everything later."

Georg didn't argue but as he studied his friend's ruddy face he could've sworn he'd seen a hint of disturbance in his glistening eyes - a shadow that seemed to darken his features as though he were recalling some troubling memory. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Now let's see the two of you get married before she comes to her senses!" Max quipped, clapping Georg on the back as Maria and the children took their places at the other end of the aisle. Once out of earshot the impresario leaned towards his friend's ear mischievously, "I know the _real_ reason you're glad to see me old man.."

Georg raised his eyebrows in question.

"Now I'm here, you'll have a babysitter for your much awaited wedding night.."

They shared a wry smirk and Georg felt a surge of hot anticipation course through him as his gaze fell on Maria waiting for him at the alter. In his shocked state, he hadn't even considered what Max's arrival might mean for his and Maria's privacy. She'd only ever joined him in passion under the constraints of a roomful of children just next door and the thought of how uninhibited she might be with nothing in their way sent an unanticipated bolt of electricity down his spine.

"Well, truth be told - " He turned back to his friend wickedly, "- _'awaited'_ probably isn't the right word.."

Max gave a hearty guffaw, "You _dog_! Old habits die hard, no?"

Georg flashed a sheepish grin before sobering and grasping Max's shoulder. When Max winced heavily again, Georg quickly removed his hand and looked at him questioningly, but Max simply shook his head, a silent affirmation that it was to be discussed later. Georg acquiesced - he couldn't describe how much this man meant to him, how the cloud over his head seemed to be miraculously dissipating in his presence. They'd been through thick and thin together, highs and lows, watched men die together, seen new life born - and he couldn't put into words what their friendship meant to him. Instead he simply patted the impresario's cheek warmly and said, "I've missed you brother."

Max gave another boyish chuckle, despite his withered appearance, "I'll remind you of that when you're sick of the sight of me!"

* * *

The second attempt at the ceremony had occurred without interruption, and as Max had stood by Georg's side, he'd realised that he'd never seen his friend so broken and yet so anchored, so happy all at once. Clearly he was tormented, plagued by a deep sense of loss that hung over him like a sickness. But the way he gripped at Maria's hands, the way he looked at her as though she were the entire world - it was clear he'd found his harbour, his bulwark, his very foundation in this unlikely young woman. This innocent girl who seemingly knew nothing of the world and its horrors, and yet somehow knew exactly how to give this experienced and learned man the strength he needed to survive. She'd saved him from the depths of despair more than once, almost effortlessly, as though it were her very character that breathed life into his aching heart. She'd achieved in six months what others had tried and failed to do in four years: bring back the Georg they all knew and loved. And now that he was susceptible to falling into despair for a second time in light of the terrors that lay on their doorstep, she was right there next to him, anchoring him, doing everything and anything to prevent his descent, to keep him with them.

It was deeply moving to know that his friend would be able to conquer whatever life threw at him while this woman stood by his side. And yet she was hardly even aware of her stirring influence over Georg, evident in the way she gazed into his eyes with fervent awe, as though he were God himself. In each other, they'd found an unexpected attraction, a unanticipated connection, and later, an accidental love. It was quite simply beautiful to behold. And as his friend had finally taken his young bride's face in his hands and kissed her deeply, it had been Max who'd clapped and whooped the loudest, whistling his congratulations in a mischievously low octave filled with suggestive implications for what was to come later. Georg had shot him a warning look then before grinning from ear to ear and wrapping his best man in another exuberant hug.

"You thought _that_ was risqué, just wait until the best man's speech!" Max had teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Georg had chuckled then, but still he couldn't shake the feeling that Max's jovial witticisms were nothing more than a distraction meant to hide the shadows that were still lurking behind his eyes.

* * *

The post wedding celebrations had taken place down by the riverbank underneath their willow tree as the sun hung low in the sky as though blessing them with its warmth and good fortune, the wild flowers and Edelweiss dotted amidst the grass swaying gently against the summer breeze. Blankets from the accommodation and a mini feast of provisions bought from the local store made it a humble but joyous occasion, the children's innocent laughter rising high and shrouding them all in a blanket of peaceful contentment.

Now that Max had found them, Maria knew their time had come. They would need to leave Davos very soon - a place that, in its own unique way, had become their second home these past few weeks. A place that held great joy and overwhelming sorrow, a place they would never forget, a place that spoke of hope and dismay, love and hatred, danger and family, peace and turmoil. It would always be the place in which their life together first began and she knew, as she glanced up at Georg's marking on the bark of the willow tree above them, that she would always think upon this place with happiness in her heart.

"A toast!" Max yelled, whipping a small bottle of sparkling wine from his inside pocket and brandishing it at the couple across from him on the picnic blanket.

"Where on earth did you get that!" Georg asked, incredulous. They'd barely been able to justify the meats and cheeses they'd bought for the feast, let alone a bottle of wine, "acquired with my own money no doubt!" He added bitterly.

"Guess again, Georg," Max grinned, popping the cheap cork and taking a hearty swig before passing it to Maria, who looked at him in sheer bewilderment before shrugging her shoulders and taking a mouthful of the bubbly liquid.

"I may have pinched it," Max confessed, as Maria began spluttering on her share.

"Max!" Georg chastised, "the grocer here doesn't make very much money, you can't just go stealing the produce!"

"I didn't take it from the grocer, what kind of sponge do you take me for!" Max retorted, offended, "I stole it from one of the Nazi soldiers before I fled."

Georg's eyes darkened dangerously, "well in _that_ case.." He took the bottle from Maria's hand and took several large, angry swigs, flinching as the bitter liquid hit his tongue.

"Not the best vintage, I must admit," Max chuckled as Georg passed the cheap bottle back to his friend, "but I've been carrying it with me in the hope that I'd eventually find you and I could finally open it to celebrate my success."

Georg smiled appreciatively, touched that his friend had never lost hope.

"Champagne?" Leisl's voice called from where the children were dipping their feet in the water, approaching the adults hopefully, "could I taste my first, father?"

Georg snorted with mirth and shot Max a look of pure fire when he made to offer the bottle to the girl.

" _Absolutely not_ Leisl, and besides, it's not champagne," Georg interjected authoritatively, "it's some form of _pig swill_ that will most likely put you off alcohol for the rest of your life."

"All the more reason to let her try it," Max muttered, eliciting a look from Georg that could kill a man at ten paces.

Leisl retreated in disappointment and Georg took the chance to broach the sensitive topic of Max's escape.

"Enough of the fun and games Max," he murmured solemnly, fixing his friends with a pointed look, as Maria also leaned closer, "what happened after we parted ways?"

Max sighed heavily, the previous shadow in his eyes replacing the gleeful sparkle that had danced there mere moments ago. He took another swig of the cheap wine and inhaled deeply before finally explaining, being careful to keep his voice low lest one of the children should hear.

"I got away from the villa in the car but they pursued me," he began, refusing to meet Georg's eyes, "when they finally caught up with me they managed to drive me off the road into a ditch before pulling me from the car. When they realised I wasn't the man they wanted, they beat me pretty badly and torched the vehicle. By the time I came to, they were dragging me away and I realised your car was up in flames along with my papers, which I'd left on the passenger seat. I managed to break away from their grasp long enough to salvage the papers just in time but.."

He pulled his shirt collar down slightly to reveal blackened patches of charred skin across his shoulder, where marred flesh looked as though it had melted against the bone. Maria's hand flew to her mouth and Georg's face thundered with unrelenting rage.

"They imprisoned me, interrogated me, pressed me for.. for information," Max's voice wavered slightly and Georg knew all too well what he meant. He felt the bile rise high in his throat and a surge of white hot anger shot through his entire body, his fist clenching dangerously at his side until Maria took note and stroked his knuckles, loosening them under her featherlight ministrations. _Where had they marked his friend? Where had they done the most damage?_

"I'm not sure how many days passed but eventually they let me go," Max continued, his voice thick with turmoil, "I figure I was no longer of use to them. I wasn't sure what to do at that point so I made my way back to the villa in the hopes that I might find something to spark some inspiration but when I got there it was surrounded by army vehicles." He flashed Georg a weary look filled with apprehension, "I'm sorry Georg, but Heinrich Himmler has taken up residency in the villa - he's been using it as his summer home.."

Georg's rage took a form it never had before, firing through every synapse, every nerve, every vein as though he were about to burst into flames. He shook from the force of it as the muscles in his neck strained against the skin and Maria gripped his face in her hands, attempting to bring him back to them with nothing more than a look.

"I'm just glad you're safe," he finally breathed through clenched teeth, livid that his friend had been subject to such horror, furious that his beloved home was in the grips of a Nazi thug.

"I did a little snooping amongst the vehicles and that's when I came across the wine," the impresario explained, smiling proudly despite the difficulty of his recollections, "knowing that I was unsafe and that I'd find no answers at the villa, I hitchhiked my way to the borders. I begged, pleaded with travellers until a kind soul finally allowed me a seat in their vehicle so that I could pass through. My damaged papers were questioned instantly, so I had to wait it out and beg for another lift," he fixed his eyes to the ground, his face set in heavy frustration, a sadness enveloping his features.

"I was malnourished, exhausted, injured.. it felt like an age before I finally made it to Davos. I'd lost track of the days, I had no idea how long you'd been gone. But I held out hope that you'd somehow still be here. I made my way to the accommodation we'd agreed on and they pointed me in the west direction of the town, though they had no idea where it was you had moved on to. But still, I was filled with hope - hope that you'd be waiting for me," Max met Georg's eyes properly for the first time during the painful exchange, "I spent the majority of the morning inquiring, asking questions at any bed and breakfast or hotel I came across, until finally, I found the one at the top of the hill. The little lady behind the counter asked me if I was here for the _wedding_ and it was then that I knew I'd found you. She told me if I hurried, I might just make it in time."

"And so you did.." Georg murmured deeply, gripping the impresario's good shoulder with such compassion in his eyes that Max felt an uncharacteristic lump form in his throat, "I owe you _my life_ , my friend."

* * *

After much insistence from Max, Georg had finally agreed to let him watch the children back at the accommodation while he and Maria took a short bus journey to the next village, where they were to spend the night in a humble little hotel by the hills. He'd been reluctant to spend any more money than they had to, what with times being so uncertain, but Max had insisted that a man only got one wedding night. When Georg had pointed out that he had in fact already enjoyed one wedding night his lifetime, Max had shrugged mischievously, a wicked glint in his eye, and retorted that if a man were lucky enough to have _two_ wedding nights while he was still young enough to enjoy them, then he should damn well make the most of it.

Georg grinned at the memory as he pulled his new bride gently up the stairs towards their bedroom, knowing full well he was being entirely less than subtle in his enthusiasm. But he simply couldn't help himself, she looked more than alluring in her cream dress, her startling innocence irresistibly juxtaposed against the ferocious passion he knew lay underneath. He allowed his mind to wander back to their last two encounters, the way she'd tasted, the way she'd felt when she'd finally sheathed him - new, unbearably soft, skintight against him - and it stirred him deeply to know that he was the first and only man to have touched her and kissed her in those heavenly places. If she had not given herself to him, she would've given herself to Catholicism - no other man had ever or _would_ ever know her body as he did. No other man would know just what made her tremble in his arms, just what made her gasp his name in broken whispers, just what made her throw her head back in the heights of rapture. And it filled him with a fierce, possessive male pride that caused the blood to start flowing south before he'd barely managed to get her through the door. But despite his growing arousal, he willed himself to take things slowly, to treasure the evening of privacy with his beautiful bride and love her delicately, slowly, passionately -

That is, until he locked the door and turned to find her standing with her dress pooled at her feet.

"Oh _god_.." he breathed as a fresh wave of arousal coursed through his veins, his hungry eyes raking over her figure, along her chest where her breasts almost spilled from her bra, up her thighs where her garters were wrapped erotically around the silken skin, to the apex between her legs where her underwear concealed what he so desperately wanted to see. Instinctively he went to flick the light switch behind him, as was his habit, but she shook her head slowly, causing his hand to freeze mid-air and drop back to his side helplessly.

"Leave it on," she whispered, her voice low and thick with lust, an irresistible blush creeping up her neck at the implication of her words, "I want to see you. I want you to be able to see _me_ when...when I come apart for you."

Georg swallowed hard. The sound of her chaste voice combined with the salacious promise that her words held as they tumbled from her unsullied lips was simply the most erotic thing he'd ever heard. Still, he didn't move, rooted to the spot as he battled inwardly over whether the give in to the primal urges roaring to life in his gut, or to honour his decision to love his new bride gently.

"Darling.." he choked, "Don't you think... I mean, we have all night to.."

But his words died on his lips as she slowly reached up behind her back and undid the clasp of her bra, allowing it to slip down her arms and tumble to the floor with her dress. His breath caught in his throat and his whole body stiffened with desire as he drank in the sight of her. Despite having made love to her before, their passion had been conceived in the middle of the night, under the cover of darkness, under restraint. This was the first time he was truly seeing her body in all its glory and the sight left him utterly breathless, as though it were the first time he'd ever set eyes on a woman.

And before the gentleman in Georg had a chance to argue, the carnal beast within him was forcing his burning body towards hers until he was pulling her closer possessively by the waist and taking a nipple between his teeth with a growl of repressed lust. He suckled at her skin desperately until she gripped at his hair and cried out from need. Where before, she'd silenced herself against the threat of being heard, now she threw her head back and moaned with uninhibited passion and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Too long he'd waited to be with her again, too long he'd been forced to restrain himself, and after all - had he not promised to refrain from suppressing this particular side of his need for her? He had to stop thinking of her as an innocent, for she was anything _but_ \- proven in the way she suddenly ripped his head from her breasts and melted into his mouth in a demanding kiss, tugging his shirt tails impatiently from his trousers and letting her hands roam up his torso as he bit back a groan.

Her fingers flew down the row of buttons and he'd barely caught his breath before she was pushing his shirt and jacket from his arms. His tie remained around his neck and he gawped open mouthed at his bride as she gripped the garment in her fingers to tug him closer, pressing her breasts firmly into his bare torso as she licked at his mouth relentlessly. If he'd been afraid of frightening her then he needn't have worried, for their newfound privacy seemed to have elicited a similar primal urge in her that knew no bounds.

Maria wasn't sure what had come over her but she had no intention of questioning it. The knowledge that he was now her husband, the realisation that there was no threat of interruption, the absence of fear in having lain with him before - it left her head spinning as she acted on her body's overwhelming desire to pull him closer. She moved entirely on instinct, and all she could feel was the burning fire licking at her stomach and lower still, knowing that only _he_ could extinguish it. Without so much as a second thought, she grappled at his belt buckle frantically and he was reminded, with a jolt of arousal, of the dream he'd had all those months ago where he'd robbed her of her nightgown and shoved her up against his bookcase. Pulling the belt free and dropping it the floor with a thud, she scrambled to undo his trousers and his eyes rolled back in his head involuntarily as her nimble fingers brushed against his heavy arousal.

Frozen to the spot, eyes squeezed shut in a lustful stupor, he felt her pulling his remaining clothes down to his ankles and then there was an unexpected pause as she suddenly stilled her movements. Opening his eyes in confusion to discover what had stopped her, he looked down just in time to catch her bending her head, moving closer and suddenly grazing her lips against him gently. He couldn't help the strangled sound that tore from his throat, the sight of her on her knees before him and the warmth of her supple mouth making contact threatening to buckle his knees.

" _Maria._." he rasped, knowing he was mere moments from it being over all too soon, "Maria darling...the bed.."

When his stubborn little Fraulein didn't listen and continued her dangerously languid kisses, he gathered her up in his arms and carried her to their marital bed, covering her body with his own.

"You'll be the death of me darling, if you carry on like that," he murmured through a smile, kissing her deeply as his hand reached down to caress her, eliciting a gasp from his wife, "and I want very much to savour you. _Slowly_."

"Not _too_ slowly.." she murmured, her gaze burning into him unashamedly through thick lashes as she writhed against him, making matters more urgent as his heart threatened to burst from his chest.

She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back then, relishing in the swell of muscle she found there and before she knew it, he was taking heed of her wishes and filling her with a single ardent thrust that made her cry out.

It was neither crazed, nor languid, neither desperate nor gentle - only heated and painstakingly intimate as they lay tangled atop the sheets, their limbs entwined and their eyes never leaving one another as they shared the oxygen around them. As Maria clung to his body, his overwhelming closeness leaving her feeling more protected than she'd ever felt in her life, she thought of how blessed she had been to discover a home in this man. This beautiful, brave, stoic, complex human being who chose to bare his soul to her when few others had ever seen it. This passionate man who loved so fiercely and fought for the things he believed in. This troubled soul who took comfort in her and let down his walls so that he could love her wholeheartedly. This stirring individual who was coming apart in her arms, trembling against her as the pleasure began to climb at the place where their bodies were joined. And it was the knowledge that he had committed his life to her, the realisation that only _she_ would ever see him in such an intimately vulnerable light, the understanding that they were not only deeply in love but joined forever in mind, body and soul, that finally pushed her over the edge of an ecstasy that never seemed to end.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked this update. Perhaps more of a filler but I tried to make it as gripping as possible, not entirely sure how well I did. But finally some privacy for our lovers, I hope I've still kept it relatively tasteful.**

 **Also, I did a bit of research and had no idea that Himmler did actually take up residence in the abandoned von Trapp house after they fled. I thought I'd add this in as I can imagine Georg's character in the film to be utterly enraged by this.**

 **Anyway, please do let me know your thoughts.**


	24. Chapter 24

The morning sun was barely over the hills outside of their window before Georg was nuzzling into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply and cocooning her against his naked body in an attempt to gently rouse her from slumber. He always rose with the sun but this was the first morning in a very long time that he'd woken up beside the woman he loved and it filled him with a warmth he thought he'd long forgotten.

The sight of his young bride innocently sprawled on her back next to him, her delicate torso enticingly exposed all the way down to her waist where the covers met her skin, was causing the blood to flow faster through his veins, making it almost imperative that she wake up soon. He liked to think he could be a patient man when the situation called for it, but she looked entirely too irresistible to ignore, her exposed breasts gently rising and falling with each breath she took, the gentle swell of her hips inching just slightly out of the covers as if inviting him to explore what lay underneath, her rosy lips ever so slightly parted as though inviting him to claim them. He felt his mouth water just looking at her, the silken skin just aching to be touched and tasted.

She looked utterly breathtaking in slumber, entirely unaware of her frank nakedness, completely comfortable in her own skin, totally oblivious to his admiring eyes. He knew that if she woke up she would hurriedly make an effort to cover herself and he made a mental note to convince her otherwise when the moment finally came. She gave a delectable little sigh in her sleep then and he felt his body responding instantly - almost urgently - as he was reminded of her whimpers of pleasure the night before in the moments when she'd finally sheathed him.

His body longed to feel her again and he nuzzled her neck a second time in his urgency. When she didn't stir, he let his fingertips stroke the velvet skin between her breasts, allowing them to trace a path down her stomach and back up again.

"Darling.." He whispered into the shell of her ear, daring himself to run a thumb featherlight across her nipple, to which she subconsciously arched into his touch and gave another heart-stopping moan before settling against the pillows again. A fresh wave of arousal coursed through his body at the sound and he realised he was beginning to get desperate - a difficult thing to admit for a man who prided himself on his iron control.

He found himself wondering whether she was already awake after all and was merely teasing him. She'd done enough of that in the first few hours of their wedding night - their first encounters as husband and wife had seen her learning his body in new ways, understanding almost instantly what made him gasp for breath, what made his fingers fist in the sheets, what made him tremble with need, what made him plead for release. They hadn't gotten much sleep and he knew she deserved to rest, but the vivid memories of ragged breaths shared, of limbs intertwined, of sweat and moans and tongues and heat - it was becoming difficult to bare.

" _Maria_..," he choked, pressing his heavily aroused body just that bit closer against her, letting his fingers continue to dance along her skin as he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead, her throat. Eventually, and much to his relief, her eyes fluttered open and she sighed contentedly, meeting his sheepish grin with a smile of her own that left him breathless.

"I'm sorry darling, did I wake you?" He purred mischievously, raising an eyebrow. She gave a light giggle before her eyes fell to her naked chest and embarrassment suddenly flitted across her face. Just as he'd predicted, she hurriedly leaned down to pull the covers up around her, clearly scandalised by being so wantonly splayed in the broad light of day.

"Don't.." He whispered, gently stilling her movements and allowing his eyes to fall to her breasts hungrily, "you are breathtaking, sweetheart," he leaned in slowly and kissed the exposed skin delicately, "I haven't been able to take my eyes off you."

He pulled the covers back unashamedly to show her exactly how much she'd affected him, and he watched her eyes travel curiously down his chest, his stomach, lower, until they widened slightly in surprise and a delicious blush crept up her neck. Much to his delight, her eyes flew back up to meet his and he discovered her irises darkening with desire, completely unafraid and unperturbed by his body's response to her.

" _Again_?" She whispered in delighted surprise and his sheepish smile returned, acknowledging that he himself had been pleasantly surprised by just how much his body seemed to think it was nineteen again. It had been a very long time since he'd felt such uninhibited desire. He'd had one or two flippant encounters with meaningless women in the lonely years that followed Agathe's death but they'd been half-hearted, soulless unions at best. Ever since his carnally ravenous desire to lose himself in Maria's supple body the day he'd arrived in Davos however, his long-dormant hormones had kicked into the next gear.

"I can't seem to help mysel.. ," his words were lost to a groan as she began to play lazily with the dark thatch of hair across his chest, down his sternum, his stomach, until -

He inhaled sharply as her nimble fingers suddenly closed around him, and he found himself shifting impatiently against her grip, desperate for the friction she stubbornly refused to give. And just as she finally began to reward him with the languid movement of her fingers, just as his eyes were beginning to roll back in his head, a heavy knock was heard at the door and his heart suddenly stilled in his ribs.

 _"Do not disturb_!" He blurted out in dismay through gritted teeth, hell-bent on ridding them of their sudden and unwelcome visitor. In her startled state, his wife had frozen to the spot and had unknowingly tightened her grip around him, causing his lungs to fight for air against the exquisite agony of her ministrations. But the knocking persisted and the muffled voice on the other side of the door informed him there was a telephone call that simply couldn't wait.

His eyes flew wide in alarm and his head snapped in Maria's direction, his stomach dropping into his feet as he saw his own concerned reflected back at him in her eyes. The only person they'd given the phone number of the hotel to was Max, and the impresario had insisted he'd only call in an emergency. _What had happened? What was so urgent it could not wait_?

The insistent knocking started up again and Georg snapped out of his disturbing reverie, scrambling from the bed to retrieve some form of clothing.

"Wait here," he instructed, as Maria pulled the covers up to her chin in comfort, the uncertainty etched into her features, "I'm sure it's nothing darling, I'll take care of it."

Maria watched as he left the room, feeling a heavy sense of dread fill her stomach as she thought of what the phone call might be about. Had Max and the children been turfed out of the accommodation? Were one of the children hurt? Or was it far worse than that? She thought back to how deliriously happy, how boyishly carefree Georg had seemed since the moment they'd been married and she braced herself against the fact that this phone call might cause his smile to fade. His beautifully complex disposition meant he had the potential to change in the blink of an eye. He was capable of intense happiness, infallible wit, unwavering passion - but with his ability to feel deeply came the inevitable burden of experiencing hurt, pain, anguish, just as intensely. It was awful to watch him suffer, just as it had been all those months ago when she'd first met him and learned of his sorrow. But she knew that for all his dimpled smiles, for all his dark moods, for all his passion and emotion and heartache - she wouldn't change her stoic captain for the world.

The very subject of her thoughts came back into the room then, having only been gone a few minutes. His face was darkened with shadows and and his stormy eyes spoke of bad news.

"Nazi soldiers have crossed the borders," he murmured gravely, closing the door behind him, "we must flee. Today."

Tense moments passed before she threw the covers back and made to get up. She wanted to go to him, to wrap her arms around him, to ask how Max had found out, to ask if everybody was safe. But suddenly Georg was there on the bed in front of her, hooking his hands behind her knees and pulling her down towards him forcefully until he was nestled between her thighs. His face was set in stone and his tortured eyes burned a hole in her as he wordlessly asked for her consent. It was a look she'd grown increasingly accustomed to in these dark times, one that she found herself delighting in, despite his evident torment. He was asking for permission again - not to love her, not to pleasure her, but to use her body first and foremost as an escape from his pain. The last time he'd looked at her that way, she'd revelled in the resulting frenzied encounter precisely because she took the greatest pleasure in knowing that she was his equal, his lifeblood, his anchor. It had moved her deeply to know that their becoming one body, one mind, one soul, had soothed him when nothing else could.

And so she met his blazing eyes unafraid and unashamed, relaxing into him and gasping when he suddenly took her as his own in one fervent thrust, a strangled moan tearing from his throat. Of relief or of despair? She wasn't sure. But she knew that for now, her many questions would have to wait, they would have to come second to his need for comfort, his need for reassurance, his need for his wife. And she was more than prepared to give him exactly what he craved. She knew their desperate encounter would be frantic, quick and wordless before they'd be forced to face reality once more. And so she met his every urgent move with arduous acquiescence, allowing him to love her, to take her, to use her as he must until the world fell away from him and he was entirely spent, gasping professions of adoration against her ear, her lips, her breasts as she clung to him, soothing his soul with heartfelt promises to never leave his side for as long as they lived.

* * *

Not one hour later they were pressed and dressed, gathering their few belongings as a solemn silence hung in the air. Georg had told her briefly about the phone call - about the news that had reached Davos that very morning. Nazi soldiers had crossed the borders into neutral Switzerland and were infiltrating the hillside towns, taking food, water and other provisions. So far there'd been no violence - it sounded more like an intimidation tactic than anything else - and they hadn't yet reached Davos, but it was only a matter of time before they were on the doorstep.

Georg's description would surely be known amongst officials and it was far too risky to stick around. Max and the children were already on their way over to them by bus, and they were to meet the impresario by the village bus stop to take the first means of transport out of the hills.

Their plan was to head to Zurich, where they would catch several trains to Paris and then from there, they would move to Calais, eventually crossing the channel into England. Georg would be able to recover a lot of the family's fortune he had locked away in British banks and the children would be able to see their grandparents on Agathe's side before Georg would look into the means necessary to move the family to America. A ship from London to New York seemed most likely, but they would need to acquire visitors permits first.

"One step at a time sweetheart," Georg had reassured her, taking her dainty hands in his as she sat on the edge of the bed, "all we have to do right now is get to Zurich. With every step we take, we need to be one step ahead of them."

When she'd nodded compliantly and gazed forlornly at the floor, he'd sunk down on his haunches and taken her chin gently in his hand, "you know... when I used to long to be your husband - before I told you how I felt about you - I used to imagine that Paris is where I'd have taken you on our honeymoon," he gave a weak smile as she nuzzled into his caressing hand, "and now I'll finally be able to show you the city of love, my darling. Even if only from a hotel window, even with seven children and a lodger in tow."

She'd smiled then and accepted his doting kiss as he held her against him, their roles suddenly reversing as he became the bulwark and she the one in need of comfort.

"Come on," he said, gently pulling her to her feet and taking her trembling hand in his own as he made to leave the room, "follow me."

"Always," she whispered, closing the door to their makeshift honeymoon suite, and the memories it held, behind her.

* * *

They'd found Max and the children with little difficulty and managed to board a bus to Zurich with very few problems, much to Maria's relief. She willed herself to relax a little - after all, the soldiers weren't in pursuit - the Nazis were far too occupied with the outbreak of the war to waste time tracking down Captain von Trapp and his family. But still she felt ill at ease, knowing that all it would take was the wrong pair of eyes to recognise her husband and his fate would be sealed.

It had taken eight hours to make it to Zurich and they hadn't eaten, had hardly had any water, and the children were growing restless with hunger - but there was no time to waste. Soldiers had only been reported as infiltrating the mountain villages and towns but it was surely only a matter of time before they made their way into the larger cities.

Maria tried to soothe her tired brood, the youngest biting back tears of confusion while Georg and Max battled through the crowded train station to get ten tickets to Karlsruhe, where they'd then connect to France. It was imperative that they got to Paris as quickly as possible. There were rumours that the Wehrmacht had launched a series of mobile operations on the Ardennes and along the Somme valley, but they hadn't managed to break the Maginot Line yet. Nevertheless, danger was still imminent and it had been difficult to get a true insight into what was happening across borders.

Georg had been trying to get hold of newspapers whenever and wherever he could but they'd had to resort to piecing the puzzle together from the little information they'd managed to gather during their escape. He knew there was a risk in moving to the French capital, what with the threat of the Wehrmacht already on French soil, but if they were quick they would surely reach Paris before the enemy managed to move deeper into the country. Either way they had very little choice - it was their fastest means of making it to Calais so that they could cross the channel into England. _One night._ They would spend just one night in an inconspicuous part of Paris so that they could eat and rest before fleeing once again. With any luck, it would still be the Paris Georg so fondly remembered, free from the stain of Nazi footprints traipsing through its streets.

* * *

The train had been stuffy and crowded, the summer sun beating down on their carriage and turning it into a furnace as it trundled through the Swiss countryside. The children had managed to sleep a little, as had their uncle, whose head had slumped adorably against Friedrich's shoulder as they'd both snored lightly. It appeared to be only the newlyweds that sleep had evaded, despite their exhaustion. At Karlsruhe, Georg had managed to grab an abandoned newspaper before they'd boarded the next train to Paris and he was reading it intently, his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in frustration, small beads of sweat forming along his hairline. He said nothing, eventually thrusting the pages closed with a disgusted grunt and chucking the crumpled material to the floor.

It was with a sigh of relief that they finally arrived in Paris to find that it was very much the peaceful, welcoming city it had always been, save for a few museums being closed and buildings being boarded up. It had not yet been touched by Nazi claws and the realisation lightened Georg's mood tenfold. Maria was in awe of the city's majesty, it's sparkling lights, its elegant people, it's bustle of noise and excitement. She longed to explore it, as they surely would've done if they'd been granted a proper honeymoon, but they'd been travelling nonstop for twenty two hours and she was growing concerned for the children's wellbeing. Their complaints of hunger and thirst that had been rife throughout the journey had eventually dwindled into a disturbing silence, their faces appearing gaunt and pale. Georg must have noticed it too, for he whisked them into accommodation on the outskirts of town as quickly as possible, rushing out for provisions and encouraging them to eat a hearty amount before he eventually allowed sleep to claim them.

It wasn't until hours later, when the sun was lower in the sky, that Maria's eyes fluttered open and she realised she must've also fallen asleep. She wasn't sure what time they arrived in Paris but she knew it'd been some time in the morning and they must've spent the majority of the day succumbing to their exhaustion. She sat up from her position on the floor and scanned the room. Georg was snoring gently next to her while Max was slumped in the chair in the corner of the room. All seven of the children were huddled on the double bed like puppies, sleeping soundly after more than twenty four hours of no rest.

She got to her feet silently and tiptoed to the window, where she allowed herself to drink in the view of the city stretched out in front of her - the glimmer of glass windows that reflected the glow of the afternoon, the silhouette of what she believed was the Eiffel Tower in the far distance, the bridges and roads and buildings that fell in shadow against the early evening sun. She gave a soft sigh before she was startled by a pair of strong arms wrapping around her waist from behind.

"Do you wish you could see it my darling?" Georg whispered compassionately into the shell of her ear, "the city of love?"

She nodded, settling into his embrace as she gazed out of the little window with longing.

"Then why don't you show her, Georg?" The couple whirled around to find Max sitting up in his chair, nursing a cramp in his neck.

"What do you mean?" Georg frowned, releasing Maria abruptly, embarrassed to have been caught out in an intimacy he'd wrongly assumed was private.

" _Go and show her Paris_ ," Max stated simply, attempting to stretch, "Take Maria to dinner, a nice walk along the Sene.. You know. I can watch the children for a few hours - it's not like they're waking up any time soon."

Georg considered the proposition thoughtfully. Could he show her Paris, as he'd always imagined doing? They were rested, fed and watered - the children were safe and sleeping soundly. There was no Nazi threat in the capital. Could they enjoy an hour or two in his favourite haunts, forgetting momentarily that there was a war on the doorstep? How he'd longed to give her a honeymoon to remember in this beautiful city.. and the hopeful look in her eyes was all it took to convince him.

"Thank you my friend," he whispered gratefully to Max before grabbing Maria's hand, " _thank you_."

* * *

Maria had never seen such quaint, yet animated streets as the ones that Georg was showing her. Paris was a whirlwind of activity and yet the most peaceful, eloquent place she'd ever laid eyes on. There were bustling bars and street vendors on every corner, artists and painters and performers down every road she turned. She found herself mesmerised by everything she saw and Georg gave a low chuckle every time she emitted a delighted gasp at some new discovery.

As the sun began to set behind the Parisian architecture he took her to see the Eiffel Tower, where they sat in the Trocadero Gardens, innocently touching and kissing in public as though they were nothing more than carefree lovers. It filled her with intense joy to see him in his element, excitable and happy to be able to show her his favourite places. With a delectable smile and a breathtaking kiss, he'd suddenly pulled her to her feet and led her to one of the nearby trees, where he looked around mischievously before leaning towards the bark. She'd known instantly what he was doing and it filled her heart with such an aching tenderness towards him that she could've sunk to her knees from the intensity of it. He was etching their symbol into the bark, that very same symbol that set her heart alight, that very same symbol that held the world of hope, that very same symbol that now marked three different trees in three different countries, each of which had seen their love challenged, pushed, stretched, but never defeated.

 _M+G_.

It wasn't until they were walking back towards their accommodation, hand in hand, talking of everything and nothing as they walked along the banks of the Sene, that Maria realised it had been one of the happiest afternoons of her life.

Never before had she learned so much, seen so much, and experienced so much in such a short space of time and it was all down to the brilliant and stirring man that stood devotedly by her side. She didn't know how to put into words what his love meant to her, what his devotion made her feel. Between them they'd experienced more heartache then two lovers ever should, but for all they had suffered, she felt stronger because of his presence by her side. She wanted desperately to tell him just how much he'd changed her life.

" _Georg_.."

But she never got to speak the words, for a strange, high pitched whistling sound pierced the peaceful ambience and halted them in their tracks. It gradually grew louder and louder and Maria wondered what on earth could make such an odd sound, before Georg's voice - so extreme and alien in its urgency - was suddenly screaming at her to get down, his strong arms dragging her rigid body to the floor before a sudden and Earth-shattering eruption of ear-splitting noise, blinding light and showering debris obliterated the world around them and sent them plunging into darkness.

* * *

 **A/N:thank you for your patience in waiting for this update! Just a note, the geography and historical events are based very loosely on some research I've done but it's mostly complete fiction, so do excuse me for the lack of hard facts :) please do review, I love to hear your thoughts as always.**


	25. Chapter 25

Maria knew nothing other than the searing agony in her chest as her lungs attempted to fight for oxygen that wasn't there. Her airways felt like they were filled to the brim with tar, making it impossible to breathe. Thick, heavy layers of dust and debris clung to her throat, to her nostrils, to her lungs that threatened to burst from the strain.

Every desperate gasp for breath left her windpipe clogged with more ash and more smoke. Her retinas burned against the claustrophobic smog of soot that blanketed her, weighing her down and pressing her body into the ground beneath her with unforeseen force. Grit, dirt and sharp pieces of debris pressed into her face where she lay against the pavement, the scratchy indentations in her cheeks the only indication that she was anchored firmly on solid ground, that she was still alive. She tried to scream but could only choke, any sound becoming lost to the deafening ringing in her ears.

Her head spun with the lack of oxygen, her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt her veins beginning to bulge against her skull from the unrelenting pressure. She would surely die here. It was inevitable. It was already happening. There was no oxygen, no light, no life, no hope. No Georg.

But just as she began to succumb to the struggle, just as her body began to give in to the pain, the suffocating cloud of ash began to dissipate achingly slowly, just enough that her lungs could fight for the oxygen they so desperately needed. Her body clung frantically to the opportunity for life, gasping in deep lungfuls of sooty air, coughing and spluttering, vomiting up dust and debris until she could finally breathe through the agony.

Gradually, the world began to come back to her, the smog thinning to reveal mayhem, flames, bodies and wreckage. Muffled sounds met her ears, as though she were far away from the chaos - but the noises grew stronger and clearer with each passing second until she recognised them as the chilling screams and pained cries of those nearby.

Her head felt like lead as she attempted to lift it from the ground and turn to her left in search of Georg. To her utter relief, he was lying a few feet away from her splayed on his back, caked in powdery ash from head to toe. His eyes were closed and she tried desperately to determine whether his chest was rising and falling but it was impossible to tell through the dissipating smog. She scanned his form and the bile rose in her throat again when she spotted an ugly, twisted shard of metal protruding from his shoulder, blood marring the material of his jacket where the jagged debris met his skin. She heard a strangled cry and realised the alien sound was coming from her own throat as she called out to him, willing him to open his eyes while she tried to push herself up. Her body wasn't ready to move however and she remained rooted to the ground - from fear? From shock? From injury? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that she needed to reach him.

Dragging herself forward, she clawed her way through the dust and debris towards him, her fingernails scraping against the rough surface of the pavement. When she finally reached his side, she was reminded vividly of another time - the night of the party all those months ago - that she'd clung to his lifeless body, crying and shaking him in a desperate attempt to bring him back to consciousness. That night, his blackened eyes hadn't opened. Would they open for her now?

"Georg..." She choked, clutching his good arm firmly, coughing again from the effort to speak, "Georg, _please.."_

When he didn't move she looked heavenward in her desperation. She was greeted by nothing but tendrils of smoke, nothing but blackness, nothing but enveloping despair. Where was her mighty God now? Where was her saviour amidst this fresh and unrelenting hell? Where was He when Georg had lost his memory? Where was He when her suffering Captain and his children had lost a wife and a mother? Where was He when she'd lost her parents?where was He when she'd punished herself for loving another? Where _the hell_ was He?

She squeezed her eyes tight shut and threw her head to the skies, the anguish tearing from her lungs before she could stop it, " _is this your will_?!" She shouted into the air through her spluttering, the despair she felt inside suddenly manifesting itself into a fiery rage directed at a God whose presence she could hardly feel anymore, "Is _this_ what is expected of me?!" She bellowed, tears of despair pooling in her bloodshot eyes, "because I cannot do this! I am not _strong enough_!"

" _Yes you are_ ," a feeble voice groaned from beneath her as Georg's body suddenly stirred.

Her heart stilled in her ribs, hardly daring to believe that he'd spoken. Surely she'd imagined it, surely her mind was playing cruel tricks on her. It was only when his eyes fluttered open that she finally allowed the tears of sheer relief to flow, flinging herself at him and clinging to his body desperately.

"Oh _Georg_! I thought.. I thought you were.."

As quickly as they'd opened, his eyes suddenly squeezed tight shut again, and a growl of agony escaped him as the searing pain of his wound hit him with full force. Moving off him abruptly, Maria's eyes fell to the debris lodged in his shoulder and she felt the blood drain from her face. The offending metal was long and jagged, violently jutting from his body at a sickening angle.

"Maria," He spluttered, but she didn't tear her eyes away from his wound, " _Maria_!" He growled, grabbing her hands.

Her eyes jerked to meet his own then, the fear in them evident.

"Are you hurt?" He asked insistently, gripping her hands tighter when she only stared at him mutely. He'd seen it many times before in the navy, young men rooted to the spot in fear, shell-shocked into muteness after the horrors they'd witnessed, " _Maria!_ Are you injured!"

She shook her head again, dumbstruck.

"Good," he breathed a sigh of relief despite his own pain, "Now I need you to listen very carefully and do absolutely everything I instruct you to do," she nodded mutely again, unable to form words.

"We need to leave this place as quickly as possible," he continued calmly, adopting the necessary protocol that years in the navy had taught him. He spoke slowly, peacefully, as though talking to a frightened child, "I'm going to pull this shard from my arm and it's going to be excruciatingly painful. I need you to anchor my legs firmly to the ground for leverage. Do you understand?"

Again she nodded silently but made no move to follow his instructions.

"Look at me Maria," he said firmly, willing her to meet his gaze with her fearful eyes, "you are absolutely strong enough to do this," he winced as a fresh wave of pain shot through his arm, "You are the strongest person I've ever met. I love you and I _know_ you can do this."

The awe, the admiration he saw in her eyes then was enough to set his heart alight as she quickly scrambled to his aid, straddling his legs as instructed and anchoring them with her full weight to stop him from jerking against the imminent pain.

Gritting his teeth, knowing it wouldn't be enough to numb the pain, he used his good arm to rip some material from his shirt, wrapping it around his hand to grip the sharp end of the debris that protruded from his shoulder. Maria's heart broke for him as he took hold of the jagged metal, took a deep breath, and then wrenched it out of his flesh with a strangled cry of agony, his whole body jerking rigidly under her weight. He threw the debris to one side and slumped back onto the pavement in relief, his face contorted in pain as he tried to breathe through his suffering.

Coming to her senses, she quickly helped him into a sitting position and stripped him of his jacket and shirt so that she could use the ripped material to bandage the wound. Wordlessly, she made quick work of the task, the entire ordeal lasting no longer than a few minutes, though it felt like a lifetime surrounded by such destruction.

But it wasn't until they were getting to their feet that Maria was finally able to see the extent of the devastation through the smoke that curled in front of them, and it made her blood run cold in her veins. Flames engulfed the charred remains of a car at the end of the street that only minutes ago had held a couple enjoying a drive with the top down. The man had tipped his hat to them as they'd passed but now he was nowhere to be seen. A few yards from there was the vendor she'd bought her first crepe from earlier that afternoon, only now the man was not smiling and gesturing animatedly. Instead he was slumped against the road, lifeless and mangled from the force of the blow. Rubble and ash caked the street and blood-curdling cries filled the night air. Other pedestrians who, like them, had been enjoying a stroll along the river lay motionless close by - helped by witnesses who had since run to the scene to offer aid. Maria realised, while rooted to the spot in horror, that if she and Georg had been even a little bit further down the embankment, they would surely be dead.

A few feet away, a solitary hand lay like a slab of meat on the pavement.

A strangled sob tore from her throat and she flung herself into Georg's open arms as he gripped his wife to his chest with all the strength he could offer her. Never in his life would he have wished for her to see the horrors of war, the very same horrors he himself had seen in battle. He would have done anything to prevent her from hearing the fearful sobs of grown men as they cried for their wives and mothers. He could do nothing now, other than hold her to him and get her as far away from this hell as possible. His clouded mind tried to think straight, tried to determine how the Nazi's could've broken the Maginot Line so quickly and made their way to Paris undetected. He knew, as dread unfurled in his stomach, that this wouldn't be the only attack. There will have been others, and there would be more to come. They had to get to the children as quickly as possible, they had to ensure the safety of their family before getting out of Paris on the next possible train. The city of love was soon to be mangled into an unrecognisable desolate wasteland of hatred, war and greed.

Pulling Maria closer against his body, he made to move them as hurriedly as his heavy legs would carry them but she shifted free of his grasp.

"Georg..we can't.. we.. _We have to help_!" She sobbed, gesturing to the devastation around them.

"There's nothing we can do!" He retorted, knowing full well it was a lie, a lie to try and protect his family, a lie that was painful to tell.

"We have to do something!" She cried, "we have to!"

He gripped her shoulders, his eyes burning a hole in her face, " _the children_ , Maria. We have to get to the children!"

Her face was contorted in anguish, her brow furrowed in despair as the scene before her threatened to etch itself on her eyelids, to haunt her dreams for years to come. But he held her gaze, willing her to be strong and eventually she nodded, tears falling as he held her to him again, his good arm wrapped around her shoulder as he rushed them in the direction of their hotel.

Maria understood Georg's desperate need to prioritise the safety of his wife and children. But she could see his inner struggle playing out on his broken face. Never before had he been burdened with such a dilemma, the two lines between family duty and civic duty blurring before him. He'd faced many personal woes, and of course he had seen inexplicable horrors in battle. But never before had he been forced to choose between the duty to protect his family, and the overwhelming duty he felt to help those suffering from the devastation of war. She knew it was costing him a great deal to make such a decision. And it seemed that his family came first.

She was deeply moved however, when, despite his better judgement, he stopped to help a boy not much older than Kurt who was slumped on the side of the road, whimpering in pain, his ghostly stare sending shivers down Maria's spine. The source of the boy's discomfort was obvious - his right leg was caught under a nasty pile of rubble and brick that anchored him to the ground and blood caked the side of his head. Before Maria was even aware of what was happening, Georg was dropping to his knees, tearing at the rubble with his good arm to free the boy's leg, all the while muttering calm reassurances to the frightened child in French. When he'd finally freed the boy, he lifted him into his arms, his jaw set rigidly against the pain in his bad shoulder, and carried the young victim to the ambulance services that had finally reached the scene.

Before long he was hurriedly doing the same with other unaided victims who crossed their path and Maria helped, watching in awe as he set aside his own physical pain, his own inner struggle, to help those in need. Perhaps for the very first time, she truly saw him not as Georg von Trapp the widower, or the aristocrat, or the man, or the husband - but as Georg von Trapp, the decorated war hero. He was calculated, efficient, strategic in his movements - despite the utter mayhem before him, despite the harrowing screams of those nearby, despite the heat of the flames and the suffocating cloud of soot engulfing them. A fine man and a brave one, the Mother Abbess had told her. And it was clearer to Maria now than it ever had been before.

His face was an unreadable mask as he carried yet another victim to safety, the body in his arms so badly burned that the skin seemed to slide from the bone. His eyes gave him away - they were blackened with anger, his face stoney with hatred and anguish, and Maria wondered what awful memories he was being confronted with as he witnessed the destruction surrounding them. How many men had he watched burning alive in his naval days? How many mere boys had he comforted as heaven finally claimed them?

Before she knew it he was by her side again, grabbing her hand in his as they hurried from the scene and around the corner towards their hotel. The same high pitched whistling that had pierced Maria's ears before the explosion was suddenly heard again in the distance and she realised that Paris was very much under attack. Artillery fire could be heard not far away and down every street they turned, there were people just like them - holiday makers running away from the imminent danger, Parisians fleeing their homes with few belongings. Where they were all headed Maria wasn't sure, but within minutes the streets were swarming with terrified people trying to get as far away as possible. She heard panicked talk of Nazi tanks having infiltrated Paris and she felt her blood run cold.

Rounding another corner, Maria could see their hotel at the end of the street but she was halted in her tracks when Georg suddenly collided with another man rushing in the opposite direction. Helping to steady her husband, she suddenly realised, with a surge of intense relief, that she recognised the gentleman they'd banged into.

"Max!" Georg cried, grabbing his friend in a hug and hurriedly counting each child that stood behind the impresario. They were all there, frightened but otherwise alright, "Thank God!"

"I had to make a decision Georg!" Max explained frantically as crowds of panicked people jostled past him, "I'm sorry, I had no idea where you were, or whether you were okay! _I had to get the children to safety!"_

Before Georg had a chance to tell his friend he'd done the right thing, another ear-splitting whistling sound was heard above them and they froze before throwing themselves to the floor and covering Maria and the children in a protective cocoon with their bodies. With sickening efficiency, the offending object hurtled into the buildings at the end of the street, blowing the bricks of their hotel and the surrounding architecture to smithereens.

 _"Jesus Christ_!" Max bellowed as the chaos surrounding them suddenly erupted into utter bedlam, crowds of screaming people and stampeding feet running in the opposite direction to the blast. Frantically, Georg scrambled to his children's aid, pulling each of them to their feet and watching as Maria gathered a crying Marta and Gretl in her arms.

"Train station!" Georg roared over the din. They had to get out of Paris as quickly as was humanly possible, "I'll take the front, you take the rear!"

Max nodded hurriedly, as they adopted the formation around the children and allowed themselves to be swept in by the crowd's frantic current. It was complete and utter carnage and all Georg could do was pray that the trains would be running, that they would be able to escape.

When they finally reached Gare d'Austerlitz it was to find the platforms absolutely saturated with people, all desperately trying to flee the unforeseen attack. The noise was deafening, the crowds frightening, and order had been entirely lost. The trains were running but the one they wanted to board had no announced destination, and it was already overflowing with refugees while others tried frantically to lift their children through the open windows from the platform. Men attempted to shove unsuspecting people aside and help their wives to board the vessel, others tried to climb the vehicle themselves, while panicked conductors tried unsuccessfully to contain the mayhem.

Without so much as a second thought, Georg grabbed Maria's hand with a startled Marta and Gretl in tow, wading through the impenetrable crowd before attempting to lift his terrified youngest into the overflowing vessel.

"Georg!" Maria cried in alarm, as Gretl kicked and screamed, "Georg _what are you doing_!"

"Take the youngest!" Georg shouted, wincing against the pain in his shoulder as Gretl squirmed in his arms, "take the youngest and the rest of us will go on foot! We'll meet you in Ermenonville!"

"No!" Maria shouted in defiance, tugging at his arm with all her strength to get him to put the poor girl down, but he didn't relent, his face set in a fiery determination. He'd mentioned the French commune of Ermenonville a few times when they'd discussed their travel plans - it was a small place, unlikely to be of interest to the Nazis and most probably the safest place within a reachable distant. But she'd be damned if she was going to leave without him, without the rest of her family.

" _Georg!"_

 _"Get on the train Maria_!" He snarled, wrestling against Gretl's sporadic movements.

Amongst the commotion, the little girl managed to struggle free of his grasp and landed on the floor with a little thud before running to her mother's legs, wrapping her little arms around Maria's knees and burying her terrified face into her skirts. Georg, in his desperation, made to grab his daughter again but Maria stilled his movements with a strangled protest like a lioness defending her cubs. The sound that tore from her lungs came with such anguished force that Georg found himself frozen to the spot.

"Don't you _dare_!" She screamed, an angry sob escaping her lips, "do not think for _one minute_ , Georg von Trapp, that I will let you leave my side again!" He looked entirely bewildered, his previously stoney face now wide-eyed with shock at her outburst, "I will NOT leave my family!" She cried, "You yourself said that I am strong, so you of all people should know that I am determined to face whatever we must face! We are in this _together_ , side by side, until death, or not at all!"

Her impassioned speech left him breathless, as though he'd suddenly seen the light, and he gathered her in his arms frantically amidst the chaos surrounding them, kissing her hard and whispering rushed apologies against her lips. She was right, yet again. A blessing he had never deserved. She was strong enough to handle whatever it was they needed to face and they would only be made stronger while standing side by side.

Gently he bent down and scooped a cowering Gretl into his arms, soothing her cries and carrying her back through the crowds, followed by a relieved Maria and Marta. When they finally reached Max and the others, the impresario fixed Georg with a puzzled look.

"We'll go on foot," Georg commanded gravely, turning to face his wife with a look that spoke not only of adoration but a bold determination meant only for her, " _together."_

It was with heavy hearts that the family made their way to the roads where they joined thousands of anguished Parisians making their way out of the city on foot, with trucks, with wagons, carts, bicycles and automobiles. Maria could hardly believe her eyes - she could hardly comprehend how much the city of love had changed in the short space of time that she'd found herself falling in love with it. And as they joined the slow-moving river of refugees that formed part of what would later be referred to as the _Exodus of Paris_ , she knew it would be a city she'd _never_ forget.

* * *

 **A/N: again, historical events in this story are not accurate! But I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I hope you enjoy this next update. Again it's more of a filler on this occasion, since quite a lot has happened in the last few chapters! I promise that the mood will be lightened eventually but I'm trying to capture the turmoil that so many refugee families must have gone through during those difficult times.  
**

* * *

The cramps in Georg's stomach and the pain in his shoulder had reached dizzying new heights as he forced one foot in front of the other robotically, cradling a dangerously motionless Gretl in his arms, despite his injury. _Eight hours_. Eight hours they had been walking, if Georg could hazard a guess. Eight hours with little food or water, their feet broken and bleeding in their battered shoes, the little ones' tears having ceased long ago only to be replaced by a chilling silence. As they'd ventured further and further away from Paris, the thick crowd of refugees fleeing the city had gradually dissipated - some had taken a different route, others had stopped for rest, and more than Georg could bare to count had collapsed in the road from exhaustion, their bodies disturbingly still in their lifeless heaps as the family passed them.

He could barely see five feet in front of him, the lack of water blurring his vision and threatening to lead to his own collapse. Mutely, his bloodshot eyes fell to his family, zombie-like in their movements, their deadened eyes fixed to the floor, their faces gaunt and waxy with fatigue. Maria clung to Marta's hand and the little girl's eyes were rolling dangerously in the back of her head, but her little legs kept moving. Kurt's face was set rigidly, much like Georg's own jaw when he attempted to bite back emotion, and the boy made no complaint of his bloodied knees where he'd tripped and fell a few hours ago. Friedrich, who had marched with a bold determination when they'd set off on their journey, now shuffled vulnerably from foot to foot as he moved, as though completely and utterly lost.

The enthusiastic smile that Brigitta often shared with the world, even during the hardest of times, had dissipated into a grimace as she gripped Leisl's hand on one side and Louisa's on the other. The startling blue eyes of the two eldest girls, the eyes that reminded him so much of his Agathe, had dimmed somewhat and he prayed that it was only temporarily. He couldn't face the thought of never seeing that sparkle again, but the horrors of war were laid bare for his innocent children to see. And it pained him beyond reason, it broke his already shattered heart to know that these sights would forever be etched into their memories. The most difficult part was knowing that he was utterly helpless to protect them from it. No longer would they see the world through fresh, untarnished eyes, through rose tinted glasses, no longer would they see the vivid beauty behind every finite detail that more withered eyes would overlook. They would forever remember what they had seen in Paris that day.

Max's already frail body was battling against him, and when the impresario finally fell to his knees in defeat at the side of the road, Georg handed his sleeping daughter to Maria and rushed to his friend's side, without so much as a hesitation. Wordlessly, he hauled Max to his feet with a pained groan as his shoulder sparked with a fresh wave of discomfort under the impresario's weight.

" _Not today!_ " Georg growled resolutely, his jaw set heavily, his eyes glazing with anguish as he supported his friend with his good arm and stuck to his side like glue as they resumed their snail's pace along the darkened road, " _countless_ battles we have fought together. You will NOT leave me today."

They were travelling well into the night and the glow of the moonlight was the only thing illuminating Max's ghostly face as he smiled weakly in appreciation. Gone was the mischievous gleam in his eye, gone were the cheeky quips that kept them all on their toes. It caused an unwelcome chill to run down Georg's spine.

Seconds seemed to drag into minutes, the minutes into hours - and it was with an unrepressed sob of sheer relief that Georg finally spotted the sign for Ermenonville up ahead illuminated by the gradually rising sun, and when they finally crossed the threshold into the quiet town, he felt his knees buckle beneath him as he and Max collapsed onto the grassy embankment, splayed on their backs as the weight of their journey hit them with full force. Gasping for the air his lungs so desperately craved, Georg found himself overwhelmed with triumph and sorrow, consumed with a sense of accomplishment and an engulfing turmoil all at once. The intensity of it threatened to knock the remaining wind out of him and he felt entirely giddy with fatigue. It wasn't long before he was vaguely aware of seven little bodies taking comfort in following their lead, collapsing into the grass next to them and burying their faces in the fresh greenery while they inhaled the sweet scent of the earth beneath them - so raw, so beautiful, so comforting in its natural simplicity.

Georg closed his eyes and allowed the gentle breeze of the dawning day to soothe his aching body, taking great comfort in the fact that darkness had left them at last. His fumbling hand found Maria's automatically in the grass beside him and suddenly everything seemed so peaceful, so quiet, so undisturbed. If he imagined hard enough, he could almost trick himself into believing that they were up the Untersberg again, laying in the grass and soaking up the mountain air without a care in the world. If he imagined hard enough, he could picture exactly what they'd be doing on a day like today if the Nazis had never existed. If he imagined hard enough, he could pretend his family had never seen the horrors of war, that they'd never laid eyes on the bodies that had lined the streets.

As the breeze ruffled his hair and Maria's grip tightened around his fingers, he thought of the poor families who'd been less fortunate than they had in the face of this godforsaken war. Mere weeks into the conflict and there was talk of people being wrenched from their homes, tortured, killed, burned, arrested. Women and children slaughtered with abandon. He thought of the poor couple who'd burned alive in their car mere hours ago, he thought of the little French boy who'd never walk again, he thought of the little bodies he'd seen on their treacherous journey, toddlers and young children having succumbed to their fatigue. He thought of his own children and how blessed he was to have them safely by his side. He thought of the guilt he felt in having neglected his babies for so many years.

And before he could mask the turmoil, before he could bury his anguish deep down in the darkest recesses of his heart, silent tears began to fall down his cheeks - tears of relief, of deep despair, of anger, of hatred, of gratitude, of guilt. It was all too much to bare, too much to comprehend, there was no more room left in his heart for the mountain of suppressed grief he battled to keep hidden. And so he allowed himself to weep, relieved to finally let go, his body too exhausted to move, the tears creating a noiseless path down his face as his oblivious audience dealt with their own demons.

It wasn't until he felt a little hand brushing against his cheek that he was suddenly stirred into reality. He opened his bleary eyes in confusion to find Getl lying by his side on her stomach, her little face marred in a concerned frown as her chubby fingers wiped away his tears. He watched her little face in wonder, rendered speechless and deeply moved by her compassion, the roles between himself and this stirring little five year old suddenly reversing while she soothed him as though _he_ were the vulnerable child. His face cracked into something between a broken sob and a watery smile then, and he gathered her into his arms desperately, cradling her to his chest and burying his face in her hair, rocking them to and fro as the force of his cries suddenly broke the surface of his reserve.

The sound of his struggle roused Maria and the other children, and he was overcome with shame, aghast that his brood would see him in such a vulnerable state. Even in the darkest moments after their mother's passing, he had never allowed them to see his tears when he'd shed them alone, hiding away in his study with a bottle of scotch gripped in his numbed fingers.

But much to his bewilderment, instead of recoiling from his display of weakness, each of his children made their way to him slowly on the grass, their faces contorted with empathy. Wordlessly, and with nothing but love emanating from their eyes, they encased him in a warm hug, leaving him suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, overcome with wonder, as he welcomed their advances with open arms until he was enveloped from head to toe in the comforting embrace of his beloved family.

* * *

Maria had never known exhaustion like it but it seemed that their troubles were far from over, for there wasn't a single accommodation that would take the ten of them, and so early in the morning. Overcome with fatigue and growing increasingly weary of Georg's injury, they'd had to settle for an inconspicuous barn they'd found on some farmland on the outskirts of the town. They'd travelled through the night and the sun was rising, but sleep was an absolute necessity. The children were close to collapse and it was imperative they were well rested before Maria even _thought_ about closing her own eyes. She wasn't sure she even wanted to close her eyes, for all she saw was the burning car, the marred flesh, the severed hand on the side of the road - burning into her eyelids relentlessly and causing the bile, the fear, to rise in her throat again.

Luckily the weather was on their side and the barn was warm, secluded, sheltered, with plenty of hay to form makeshift beds. Much to Maria's relief, they stumbled across a trough of relatively clean rainwater and she beckoned the parched children over before they frantically took turns to gulp down handfuls of the liquid. She prayed it wouldn't make them ill but they had little option left, given their alarming dehydration. As Kurt stepped up for his fill, she was suddenly reminded again of the little boy that Georg had helped, and wordlessly she pulled a baffled Kurt into a warm embrace, tears pooling in her eyes.

When each of the children had finally had their fill, she helped the little ones wash their faces and hands while the eldest tended to themselves, Georg and Max waiting their turns before eventually feeling the relief of the refreshingly cold water on their own faces dirty faces.

"Come on children," Max sighed heavily, wiping his face with his bedraggled jacket, "I'll help you make up some beds, Lord knows I'm about to pass out myself."

"I can't feel my feet.." Marta whispered, her voice cracking with upset, and Max scooped her into his arms with great effort, carrying her to the other side of the barn, the other children dragging their heavy feet as their eyes threatened to droop closed. The faint rustling of hay could be heard and Maria was suddenly grateful to the impresario, knowing he'd offered to help so that she and Georg might have a moment to themselves to comprehend everything that had come to pass.

Turning to her husband, her breath suddenly caught when she saw just how frail he looked. His face was pale, his eyes were dark with black circles, his cheeks were sunken and gaunt, a sheen of sweat was glistening on his brow. He held his injured arm crookedly close against his body, the faint stains of blood having seeped through his filthy shirt. He looked as though he were on death's door and it frightened her to see him so utterly vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. He had always been so strong, so self-assured, but now he seemed utterly broken. She couldn't stop herself from taking his face gently in her hands then and kissing him deeply, as though trying to breathe some life back into him. She pulled back to find his eyes still closed in a pained frown, knowing he was struggling inwardly with what his family was going through. He was a fine and brave man, there was no doubt in her mind about that, but he was also capable of ferocious and raw emotion, and _every_ man capable of feeling as he did would surely have a breaking point. She wondered, as she stroked the lines of his anguished face, whether he'd reached his yet.

He opened his eyes then, and what she saw in them made her heart begin thudding against her ribs. It was a heady mix of despair, love, longing and desire - but most of all, she saw hope. Despite everything that had come to pass, it was _hope_ that shone through in his eyes as they bore into hers. And the stirring reality of his determination, the strength of his resolve in ensuring the safety of his family, it filled her with an intense rush of adoration and awe. _A fine man and a brave one indeed._

Words entirely evading her, she attempted to ignore his gaze and focus on the task of tending to his wound. Despite herself, she couldn't look away from his face, and their eyes never parted as she slowly began to undo the remaining buttons of his ragged shirt. Within seconds, she became painfully aware of the way his eyes seemed to darken against her ministrations.

"I need.. I need to _check_ , darling..." She stammered, referring to his wound. But he said nothing, his blazing eyes setting her alight as his shirt fell open to expose his strained torso. He was entirely exhausted, she knew, but there was no mistaking the stirring look in his eyes. He was lost, he was desperate, and he _needed_ her.

 _Surely_ though, she thought as her eyes raked over his bare skin despite herself, surely even _he_ knew that in their present company, he wouldn't be able to lay a finger on her. And she could see that the knowledge pained him, leaving him deeply frustrated as his jaw set rigidly and his whole body seemed to stiffen under her gaze. She heard him inhale deeply as she brought her hands up and dared to run her palms agonisingly slowly up his torso, revelling in every ripple of muscle, every thread of hair that she could feel against her fingers, before she slid underneath his lapels and pushed the dishevelled garment down his arms gently, allowing it to fall to the floor. Her own breath caught then, his broad shoulders an indication of his strength even in light of his withered state.

His eyes never left her face, burning into her with adoration, as she delicately removed the swath of material he'd used as a bandage, and she winced at the sight of his bloodied shoulder. To an onlooker, it would appear as though she was merely inspecting his wounds in nothing more than a clinical examination, but with his eyes boring into her with such a fierce intensity, leaving her weak at the knees, Maria knew better.

Silently, for she wouldn't have been able to speak even if she tried, she attempted to avoid his penetrating stare while she wetted the rag in the trough beside them, rinsing it as best she could before turning back to him. With as much compassion as she could muster, she began to clean the wound as best she could. It would need stitching as soon as possible but the puncture wasn't as deep as she'd first feared. She felt an unexpected pang of distress when he suddenly gasped against the pain, gritting his teeth and wincing in discomfort. Hurt and anguish mingled with the rising heat in the air and the combination was deeply intoxicating.

When she'd finished her assessment, she tore a fresh corner of material from her own dress with shaking fingers and bandaged the wound before rinsing the rag in the trough again. He made no move to pick up his shirt and when she met his gaze again, she watched as his eyes moved to the washcloth in her hand before flicking back to her face with dawning understanding, the midnight blue of his irises darkening dangerously once more as he realised what she intended to do with it.

She couldn't ignore the quickening of her own pulse as she raised the wet cloth and gently pressed the rag to his heaving chest, delicately wiping away the grime and dust that coated the skin and muscle there, a vivid reminder of the horrors they had witnessed together. The droplets of water clung to the thatches of dark hair across his chest, matting the curls deliciously to his skin, hanging tantilisingly before forming an antagonisingly slow path down his torso, wetting the flesh everywhere it touched. Despite her fatigue, she felt her mouth water as she found herself consumed with a perplexing desire to follow their trail with her tongue.

His chest began rising and falling more rapidly against her hand as she moved the wet material across his breast plate, his sternum, his stomach and as her own heart thundered, she found herself moving her hand lower still, until it reached the darkened trail of hair that led into the waistband of his trousers. His mouth fell open as she caressed him languidly through the wet cloth and the quietest of moans escaped his lips, but his eyes never left hers, leaving her dizzy with the implications of what she was doing to him, how she was torturing him. She told herself that she was doing nothing more than helping her injured husband bathe, offering him aid in the most desperate of circumstances. But amidst the intensity of the fiery cocoon they'd somehow managed to create around themselves, it felt every bit as though he were already inside her, lost in the throes of passion.

She suspected, she _knew_ , from his rigid posture, his muscles pulled tight across his torso, that he was becoming heavily aroused by her attentions, and she marvelled at the power of their need for one another - a need so strong that it seemed to overcome the heights of exhaustion. But for now, she pushed the stirring thought aside and simply savoured the beauty of this particular intimacy, the beauty of cleansing her husband's body when he was at his most vulnerable, comforting him with the most delicate of touches, holding his burning gaze with a look that spoke only of her adoration and reassurance.

Without warning, he suddenly gripped her wrist tightly, stilling her movements abruptly, before gradually extricating the wet wash cloth from her fingers. Eyes as dark as night, he moved her hand lower still until as her heart flew to her throat, and with a quiet grunt of relief, he pressed his heavy arousal into her waiting palm. She gasped at the unexpected solid heat through the material of his trousers and made to pull away instinctively, but he held her there firmly by the wrist and she realised, with a quick look over his shoulder, that their company was very much asleep at the far end of the barn. The thought instantly thrilled her.

"My body is so exhausted," he rasped, "I think it may kill me to..." but she suddenly silenced him with a tantalising stroke of her fingers, delighting in the newfound knowledge that their sleeping audience was oblivious to their actions. He stifled a groan and let his eyes roll back in his head, "it may kill me to... To _exert_ myself..."

She knew he was right, that his body was beyond what his mind demanded. It would do him no good to love her like this - he may have needed it desperately, needed to find solace in their intimacy, but his body was breaking.

"Are you sure darling?" she whispered, ready to be everything and anything that he needed.

His face was still crumbling with the strain of his arousal but he nodded reluctantly, and she slowly extricated her hand from his body, watching him visibly relaxed, the boiling heat surrounding them gradually dissipating into a simmer as they came back to reality. It was perhaps for the best - their actions were surely verging on madness given their current surroundings. Pulling him to her gently, she kissed him chastely on the mouth and simply held him close before eventually helping him to put his shirt back on. He needed rest, he needed sleep and she would do everything in her power to ensure he recovered.

Knowing the children were safely sleeping with Max by their side, the couple climbed the rafters where more fresh hay was strewn about for their leisure, looking comfier in those moments than the biggest of double beds. Gathering as much as they could in a pile and forming a somewhat scratchy mattress, an exhausted Georg finally scooped his wife into his arms and spooned his body against hers, willing his primitive reaction to her caresses to eventually subside. Despite the anguish that tore through his soul, he was deeply comforted by this innocent privacy, the chance to cradle his wife against his chest, to bury his face in her hair and feel the gentle thud of her heartbeat against his fingers. He needed her, his body _ached_ for her - but not like this, not mere feet away from his family. In light of the recent devastation, he needed nothing more than to completely let himself go, to answer to his body's call, to bury himself inside her, unrepressed and unrestrained. There would be time for all of that eventually, but not now. And as his fatigue finally claimed him, his last conscious thought was of home, of a glistening lake, a breeze moving through the trees like a restless sea, and the blissful warmth of a giant four poster bed that they'd never had the chance to share.

* * *

 **A/N: please do let me know your thoughts and thanks for sticking with me! If it's getting boring or anything at all, let me know! Always want to take your thoughts on board.**

 **thanks again for the reviews so far, they keep me going!**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: sorry it's taken me six days to update! I promise I won't leave it as long again. Enjoy!**

* * *

Maria was startled awake amongst the hay by the sudden grip of a firm hand on her leg. In her disorientated state she was only vaguely aware of impatient fingers skating a rough path up her thigh and hurriedly bunching the material of her skirts around her waist. Her weary eyes fluttered open and attempted to adjust to the dimness of the barn, her cloudy mind registering that it must be just after dusk. At the same time, she felt the swift fingers continue their affectionate assault, nudging her knees apart and tugging her underwear aside with effortless ease. The sudden, ragged breath in her ear from behind was the only telltale sign that her husband was not only very much awake, but had been roused from sleep with a newfound energy that apparently called for immediate relief. Her breath caught abruptly in her throat and her mind suddenly snapped into overdrive when his strong fingers made contact with the exposed skin between her thighs. Urgent flames erupted in her stomach and her grogginess was replaced by a sudden surge of hot desire, mingled with a slight sense of panic.

"Georg.." She rasped into the night air, suddenly unsure of his mounting recklessness. _Was he out of his mind?_ In the rafters of a barn, with the family sleeping below, for goodness sake? They were so far away from the oblivious sleepers there was no real possibility that they would be seen or heard, but the very thought still seemed ridiculously impulsive, even for Georg. Though it suddenly occurred to her, as his hot breath ghosted up the back of her neck where he bit at her skin possessively, that he most likely _was_ out of his mind. Out of his mind with worry, guilt, sadness, grief, anger. He'd been through hell and back, he'd exhausted himself in his efforts to protect his family, he'd taken a nasty beating from a violent piece of debris - and he had woken, most likely from terribly disturbing nightmares, to find his wife beside him, his escape, his anchor, his lifeline. It was suddenly quite clear to Maria that he _wasn't_ thinking straight in the slightest, he was only _feeling_. Acting on a primitive need and a deep anguish that he didn't have the strength to fight.

Could she give him what he so desperately needed? In such a reckless, almost indecent way? She'd seen the all-consuming, burning want in his eyes when she'd bathed him mere hours ago, and though she couldn't see him in the dusky twilight surrounding them now, she could feel his desperation emanating from every inch of his solid frame. She could feel it where his muscular chest pressed against her back, where his lips skimmed against her sensitive skin, where his heavily aroused body strained against his trousers and pressed insistently into her hip, where his fingers flicked relentlessly at her centre.

" _Darling.._ " She tried again, in a voice that was meant to sooth him, but instead the endearment came out like a whispered plea, and she realised all too late that the word had had the opposite effect, succeeding only in spurring him on. She tried to form a coherent sentence, but was immediately rendered mute when her stammers were met only with a low grunt of need, a plea for permission, and the faint sound of his zipper being eased slowly downwards. Her senses were heightened amidst the darkness and the implications of the suggestive sound ringing in her ears, the sensation of his gasps against her skin, the fumbling movement of his hand at the base of her spine - it knocked her breathless as she realised what he was doing to himself. And that was her last coherent thought before she felt her body succumbing to his ministrations as he pulled her even more tightly against him.

Within seconds, before she could determine up from down, he was easing inside her excruciatingly slowly, inch by frustrating inch, in an attempt to minimise noise. His entire body was rigid as he gripped at her hips, spooning against her, holding his breath and trembling uncontrollably as he choked back the throaty moan that would normally accompany such exquisite sensations. Instead, when she finally sheathed him entirely, he held her there, completely still, and let the air escape his lungs in a low exhale of relief, panting against the strain of having to control himself. His desperate urgency left her similarly robbed of oxygen as the blood began to burn through her veins.

He gave a quiet whimper of frustration as he began to move ever so slightly inside her, his body screaming for him to drive his hips relentlessly forward at full speed, but knowing he couldn't. She gripped his hand in hers reassuringly, entwining their fingers and bringing them to her chest, letting him know through the thundering of her heartbeat that she was right there with him.

She soon realised, much to her own frustration, that she had to remain perfectly still in order for him to love her this way. Any movement on her part interrupted the painstakingly languid rhythm or created too much rustling against the cocoon of hay they found themselves in, and so she was rendered helpless, her body tightening with the need for greater friction, greater intimacy, only to be left almost entirely bereft. He was buried deep within her, they were fused where his hips met her body, and his slow nudges were leaving them both burning for more, fighting desperately for release. Every so often the crawling pace would become too much for him to bare and he would lose control for mere seconds, frantically quickening the speed with a few desperately rapid thrusts before the resulting noise became too risky and he was brought back to his senses, resuming the excruciatingly slow pace once more with an almost inaudible groan of disappointment.

It felt like hours they were locked there together, conjoined in pleasure and frustration, in love and in lust, in elation and in heartache. And Maria found herself choking back her own sobs of desperation as she felt as though the ecstasy would never come, as though they would be suspended in this frustrating limbo of unfulfilled pleasure forever, the bliss building higher and higher with no sign of exquisite relief.

His tongue lapped hungrily at the pulse thundering in the crook of her neck, the languid pace causing his breath to come in short gasps that he tried desperately to conceal as his body fought hard for the pleasure where they were joined. Maria felt suspended as her own body trembled in its urgency - every muscle strained for release, every synapse fired with desperation, her lungs were bursting from the strain of holding in her cries, his insistent but excruciatingly slow thrusts caressing the burning flames inside her.

And then - _thank God in heaven_ \- it was finally happening. And she found herself grappling to bring his long fingers up over her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle her cries. Painfully slowly, she felt the pleasure building and climbing from within, the burning fire spreading low and deep before simmering throughout her entire body. Every inch of her screamed for climax but much to her dismay he still wouldn't alter the pace, pushing her inch by inch until she was teetering on the brink of sanity. It seemed to last an eternity before, with a last insistent thrust, he finally sent her spiralling into the raptures of exquisite, all-consuming relief. She knew nothing of the world and she'd barely caught her breath before she felt his entire body tighten as he pulled her possessively closer, shuddering and jerking against her as he buried his face in her hair to mask the strangled sound tearing from his throat.

Entirely exhausted, she felt his body go limp against the hay as he gently nuzzled into her neck, his breathing erratic as it began to slow.

" _Please don't ever leave me_ ," he breathed sleepily, the vulnerability in his voice tugging on her heartstrings and leaving her wondering for a second time whether he'd woken from a fearful dream before their heated encounter.

Wordlessly she turned her body to face his and curled up into his arms, kissing him assuredly.

"Never," she whispered against his lips, feeling him sigh contentedly before exhaustion claimed them both once more.

* * *

When Georg awoke again it was to the sun gently rising in the sky, and he realised they must've slept through the night as well as the previous day. He heard the hopeful sound of birds chirping, the rustling breeze of the trees outside, and a deep sense of calm settled over him... Until he opened his eyes to find the barrel of a shotgun pointed directly at his face.

His eyes blew wide and he bolted into an upright position, cursing loudly as hay flew in every direction. The newly discovered intruder started yelling uncontrollably in rapid French, pointing the gun with greater conviction and causing Georg's head to spin.

"Wait!" He cried, silencing the man's ramblings abruptly and bringing his hands up in surrender. He caught a glimpse of the man's profile behind the gun, and noted he was slightly elderly, with greying hair and a thick beard, dressed modestly and looking rather nervous. He didn't seem the type to be pointing guns in people's faces.

But before Georg could make sense of his racing thoughts, the man was off again, yelling in French at such lightning speed that he was finding it hard to keep up.

"Detendez-vous!" He cried, attempting to calm the man down and take back control of the situation, "Ralentis s'il te plait.."

Much to his dismay, Maria's body began to stir beside his, the commotion rousing her from sleep, and on instinct, the gunman shifted his weapon to her moving form. A cry of protest tore from Georg's lips and mild panic flitted across the gunman's face when Maria stirred again.

Instantly both men froze, watching, holding their breath helplessly as Maria opened her eyes in confusion and then gave a strangled cry of indignation as the scene in front of her came into focus.

"Now Maria darling..." Georg soothed, as though they'd awoken a wild sleeping lion, "the important thing is not to _panic_..," his eyes never left the gunman's aged face, "just let me handle this."

"Who are you!" Maria yelled in German, entirely ignoring her husband's advice, much to his chagrin. _Did she want to get them both killed?!_

The gunman's eyes darted back to Georg uncertainly, clearly unsure of who out of the two of them was the biggest threat. Sighing in frustration, Georg cleared his throat and attempted to remedy the situation his outspoken wife had already managed to fuel.

"She said ' _who are you_?'" He repeated in French apologetically, entirely less than impressed at the fact that he'd somehow become nothing more than his wife's translator in this bizarre state of affairs.

"I'm well aware of what she said, I can understand basic German!" the gunman spat in his native tongue, his worn dungarees shaking slightly against his lithe frame as he gripped the shotgun tighter, "I'm merely wondering what the hell you think you're doing in my barn?"

"What's he saying?!" Maria demanded, as Georg attempted to smile remorsefully at the farmer whose property they'd unceremoniously squatted in.

"I'm so sorry, Monsieur," Georg addressed the disgruntled Frenchman, attempting to ignore his wife's impatient tugging on his shirt sleeve before she interrupted them again.

"What are you telling him?!"

"Would you just let me handle this darling!" Georg cried in exasperation, attempting to appease both parties at once as the farmer grew increasingly more agitated.

"Tell him to put the gun down for goodness sake!"

"I will do, if you give me a chance to speak for just one minute!" Georg hissed.

"Well it doesn't much sound like you have the situation under control!"

"Of course it's under control!" He gritted, forcing another stupidly strained smile at the farmer to convey the illusion that everything was absolutely fine.

"Well I can't say I'm convinced, Georg!"

"Does she _ever_ stop talking?" The farmer suddenly addressed Georg in French, inclining his head towards Maria with a look of utter incredulity crossing his features. Georg had to bite back a laugh then - he couldn't be certain who would kill him first if he showed any sign of amusement - this new acquaintance, or his wife - but he could've sworn he saw a smirk tug at the elderly man's lips as Maria yet again enquired impatiently about what they were discussing.

"I fear not.." Georg responded with mirth, relaxing a little and lowering his arms, "though believe it or not, it does become rather endearing after a time.. "

He shook himself out of his reverie forcefully. What on earth was he doing making small talk with a stranger who was holding them at gunpoint? He cleared his throat again and willed himself to focus on the challenge at hand, "Listen, Monsieur..?"

The farmer stiffened again, unsure of how to proceed.

"LeGrand," he eventually stated, gripping his gun a little tighter.

"Ecoutez, Monsieur LeGrand," Georg began, "we cannot apologise enough for having intruded on your property. We were fleeing the atrocities in Paris and became desperate for shelter after ten hours on foot," he explained, as the Frenchman lowered his gun slightly, "we'll be on our way immediately."

He cautiously got to his feet, his eyes never leaving LeGrand's face until he was sure the man had no real intention of harming them. Wordlessly, he pulled a baffled Maria to her feet and they made their way down from the rafters, the shotgun never too far from their sight as the farmer followed them, pointing his weapon by means of self defence.

"Father?" A bleary eyed Marta sat upright in the hay amongst her sleeping brothers and sisters in the corner of the barn, rubbing her face before her eyes suddenly locked with the stranger in immediate fear.

"It's alright Marta darling," Georg cooed, reaching for the girl and scooping her into his arms as Maria gently roused the other six children, resorting to kicking a snoring Max gently in the ribs when he wouldn't stir.

" _Jesus,_ " the Frenchman muttered in disbelief, "these are all yours?" He gestured to the sleepy children and Georg nodded.

"They've had a bit of a rough journey.."

"I'm _hungry._." Kurt grumbled, his eyes still half closed as he sat up, "I wonder what hay tastes like.."

The farmer looked heavenward, exasperated, as though facing a sudden quandary, "ah.. I thought it was just the two of you, I had no idea you had an entire _troop_ of children with you."

Georg shrugged as a half-asleep Max managed to stumble to his feet, his eyes eventually falling on the gunman in surprise, "who's your friend?" He asked Georg bluntly, pointing at the farmer as if he were some kind of stray dog.

"Who's that?" The Frenchman addressed Georg at the same time in his native tongue, eyeing Max suspiciously.

"Leur oncle," Georg replied, rolling his eyes and attempting to restore order to the chaos that was rapidly ensuing around him.

"What's he _saying_ , Georg?" Both Max and Maria enquired simultaneously, only to be silenced abruptly by the burning death stare that he suddenly shot both of them.

"We're leaving," he announced to the whole barn, putting a reluctant Marta down and wincing slightly as the pain in his shoulder started up again. A long, stifling silence hung between the entire group then as everyone eyed each other tentatively - the sudden eeriness juxtaposed bizarrely against the sheer mayhem that had been unfurling only moments before. The family seemed depressed by the news, the thought of more travelling almost too much to bare, while the farmer looked almost guilty, battling inwardly with himself as his eyes fell to the weary children again.

"Where are we going to go father?" It was Friedrich who eventually broke the deafening silence, straightening and puffing his chest out bravely as he stepped in front of his siblings as if to shield them from the stranger.

"I'm not sure, Friedrich," Georg replied, "but we've taken advantage of this gentleman's property without permission and it's time we made a hasty exit."

Just as they began to gather themselves together and dust off their rumpled clothes, a plump middle-aged woman donning an apron, with thick greying plaits piled high on her head, came thundering into the barn at full speed, prattling away in French and waving her arms around in a fury - much to the evident dismay of LeGrand.

Suddenly the woman froze in her tracks amidst the hay, her words dying on her lips as her eyes fell on the gun and the group of children it happened to be pointing at.

" _Oh mon Dieu_!" She cried, her hands flying to her cheeks in alarm, " _Olivier_! What on earth are you _doing_!" She hissed in disbelief at the Frenchman, and Georg found himself smirking gleefully. It was quite clear from the woman's scolding tone and LeGrand's sheepish expression that this could only be his wife. It seemed, Georg realised with delight, that he wasn't the only one with a headstrong spouse.

"What in _God's name_ is going on!" The buxom woman demanded in her mother tongue as Olivier sighed in exasperation, "I asked you over half an hour ago to come and retrieve the eggs and I find you in the barn holding a group of children at _gunpoint_!"

"They were trespassing.." Olivier mumbled.

" _Sacre bleu_!" His wife cried, throwing her hands up in the air and hoisting her skirts up, stepping over a giant puddle to come closer before smacking the barrel of the gun with an impatient tut so that Olivier had no choice but to lower the weapon, "the poor little _dears_!"

"We're terribly sorry," Georg addressed the woman, helping a stunned Brigitta to her feet, "Monsieur LeGrand is quite right.. my wife and I.. Our children.. We _were_ trespassing. We came from Paris you see.. We had nowhere to sleep. We were just leaving."

"You'll do no such thing!" The woman declared over her shoulder as she approached a bewildered Kurt and grabbed his chubby cheeks in her hands, "I've heard about what's been happening in Paris. Your poor brood must be absolutely _exhausted_. They're practically withering away!"

"Food?" She asked the young boy, his confused face still clamped between her wrinkled hands, " _lebensmittel_?"

Kurt's eyes lit up when he heard his favourite word in the German language and he nodded enthusiastically, his little cheeks squashed against her affectionate grasp.

"Come!" The woman declared, releasing the boy and gathering a giggling Gretl to her skirts before pulling a baffled Leisl towards her forcefully by the hand, "come, you must all _eat!_ "

"But darling..." The farmer piped in wearily, "there's _ten_ of them! And... they're _German_.." He hissed.

"Hush!" The woman retorted, waving him off with an impatient hand.

"Austrian actually.." Georg corrected.

"Not much better..." was the grumbled response.

"Oh do _stop_ your whinging Olivier, I couldn't care less whether they were from _Mars_!" Madam LeGrand scolded, "they're in need of our help."

"What are they _saying_ , Georg?!" Maria whined again, causing the Austrian aristocrat and the French farmer to roll their eyes and share an amused look of indignation - despite their differences, they both knew all too well the difficulties of having a overly forthright wife.

The farmer sighed in defeat, "come," he beckoned in German, gesturing for them to follow him out of the barn.

"Join us for breakfast. Je m'appelle Olivier.. This is my wife, Madeleine."

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed the update - no huge developments but I thought it was time the von Trapps saw a friendly face or two!**

 **Again, not sure if this should be an M but there you go!**

 **Apologies if my French or German is off, I don't speak either very well!**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: a quick update as promised. I think I better declare this story an M due to the nature of the barn scene in the last chapter and any more chapters to come. Apologies if it was a bit much for some people as I appreciate it got quite steamy! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

* * *

Eggs, bacon, milk and fresh French bread was spread out on the large wooden table in front of Maria and she couldn't recall the last time she'd felt so utterly ravenous. Exhaustion and fear had rid her of her appetite over the last few days but now that the fresh smell of cooked fare was reaching her nostrils, she felt an all-consuming hunger like she'd never felt before. She knew their travels had left each member of the family very much worse for wear. Weeks of rationing and living mostly off bread and water, with the occasional meat or cheese if they were lucky, had taken its toll and Maria was growing increasingly worried for the children's well-being. The most recent venture out of Paris had not helped. Marta's normally vibrant face was more gaunt, Friedrich's high cheekbones had sunken, Brigitta's wrists looked suddenly so thin they might snap, and Maria had discovered for herself the way that Georg had also thinned. It hadn't escaped her notice, when she'd bathed him ever so gently, that while the expanse of muscle and smattering of hair across his chest still conveyed an essence of masculine strength that often left her breathless, his ribs were suddenly very much visible. It had alarmed her when she'd felt the ridges of bone under his skin while she'd soothed him, but she'd hastily shaken the worry from her mind - after all, her own ribs were protruding more than ever, the little body fat she'd possessed quickly shedding amidst the stresses of fleeing. They had far more pressing matters to tackle than the rationing of their food. At least they were not yet starving to death. All they had to do was make it to England.

"I don't think I've ever been so happy!" Kurt cried in sheer delight as Madam LeGrand served a portion of eggs onto his plate with a low chortle.

"This one has a healthy appetite, no?" She shared an amused chuckle with Georg, making sure that each child received a similar helping before passing around the bread.

Georg translated for the family, evoking a titter of amusement around the table as Kurt grinned sheepishly, his mouth already fit to bursting with the amount of eggs he'd hastily stuffed in it. Maria almost admonished him for neglecting to say grace, but she quickly let it slide - the poor boy hadn't seen scrambled eggs in weeks. Instead, she muttered a quick thanks to God under her breath.

Madam LeGrand finally took her seat at the end of the table next to her husband, and Georg noted with amusement that the room they were sat in was every bit a reflection of this charming couples' character. Both of them, in their modest farming attire, fitted perfectly into the backdrop of the cosy kitchen, with its low beamed ceilings and endearing clutter. Pots and pans hung low from above the large cooker, a kettle whistled noisily atop the hob, trinkets and old photographs adorned the walls and shelves, and a large dog lolled lazily in the corner, splayed across the floorboards in apparent disinterest.

"Eat up!" Madam LeGrand cried, gesturing enthusiastically at the food in front of them, "there isn't much, but I hope it will help."

Georg again translated, mostly for Maria's sake, though he knew Max and the little ones spoke barely any French either. The eldest however, spoke the language fairly fluently and could keep up with basic conversation.

"We can't thank you enough," Maria said with feeling, listening to Georg translate while she subtly transferred some of her eggs onto Friedrich's plate, fearful of the boy's worsening frailty. When she looked up however, it was to find Georg catching her in the act. He flashed her a hint of an affectionate smile but with a slight shake of his head. His message was clear - her selflessness was a thing of beauty but she needed her strength just as much as everybody else did.

"Think nothing of it my dear," Madam LeGrand replied with a wave of her hand, "I cannot possibly allow my husband to hold your family at gunpoint without at least inviting you for breakfast afterward!"

An intelligible grumble came from beyond the newspaper that Monsieur LeGrand had buried himself behind, and Georg found his fingers were twitching impatiently, itching to snatch the pages from the man's hands so that he could read the headlines that had caught his eye.

"I must say my dear," came Madam LeGrand's French intonations from somewhere in the vicinity as Georg zoned out, tilting his head subtly and squinting in an attempt to make the headlines of the paper more eligible from across the table. His French speech was far better than his reading ability and he was struggling to make out the words.

"I know it's not my place but you do look very well indeed to have mothered seven children!" Madam Legrand's voice continued in the background, "You don't look much older than your eldest!"

Georg was vaguely aware of Leisl stifling a giggle before translating for Maria and he was grateful to note, some minutes later, that the three women had fallen into easy conversation, flitting between French and German and conveniently leaving him free to attempt a subtle newspaper heist.

While the rest of the table was otherwise engaged either eating vigorously or nattering away, Georg squinted harder and leaned a few inches further across the table, discovering that he was able to make out a few words of the article jumping from the front pages.. _War.. Government.. Paris.. Hitler._. Was Austria mentioned anywhere? Was there any reference to Calais and the dangers that might lay ahead for them there?

A contrite clearing of the throat suddenly silenced the entire room and tore Georg from his reverie. His head snapped up to find a less than amused LeGrand eyeing him incredulously over the top of his reading material, and he was suddenly aware that everyone else had stopped what they were doing to watch him in amusement. He gave a sheepish smile as it dawned on him that he'd unknowingly risen from his chair and bent halfway across the table to get a good look at the front page, clumsily knocking over a glass of milk in the process.

Gretl giggled mercilessly as the puddle of milk began to drip into LeGrand's lap, much to Georg's embarrassment. Maria watched in disbelief, attempting to stifle a laugh when she caught Leisl's eye - she couldn't ever recall seeing her captain blush before!

"I don't suppose," Olivier drawled with sarcasm, "that you would like to borrow my paper?"

"I'd be most grateful.." Georg winced as the milk continued its gradual descent onto the farmer's dungarees. The situation was only made worse by the giant dog suddenly snapping to attention, hurling himself underneath the table with an almighty clatter, and diving headfirst into LeGrand legs to bury his drooling chops in the tasty spillage.

"Clumsy _buffoon_!" The Frenchman exclaimed, thrusting the paper at Georg across the table.

Leisl snorted into her eggs.

"What did he say?" Maria asked the girl.

"He called father a -"

"Yes, _thank you_ Leisl!" Georg interjected, embarrassed enough without his wife knowing he'd been chastised like a little boy. He wasn't used to being spoken to in such a manner, least of all by a farmer, but he let the comment slide, knowing he owed Monsieur LeGrand beyond measure for welcoming them into his home - albeit slightly reluctantly.

Hastily, he buried his reddening cheeks behind the paper, attempting to ignore Max's snicker, and busied himself with trying to decipher the headlines while conversation gradually resumed around the table. Much to his dismay, the minuscule print dictated that Calais had been raided by Luftwaffe bombers, causing disruption to military movements, confusion and traffic jams where thousands of refugees were attempting to make it to the port. It wasn't clear if the port was even in use or if they would be able to board a boat when they got there, but Georg was beginning to realise they had little choice but to try. Getting to the town on foot would take three days however, and there were no train stations for miles either. He knew, as his heart sunk, that his family would be forced to walk themselves to exhaustion yet again and the thought filled him with a sudden and all-consuming grief, an engulfing sense of hopelessness that caused him to slam the paper down against the table in anger.

The other occupants of the room startled and immediately fell silent, Maria's hand finding his automatically on the table top and giving it a comforting squeeze.

"It is what we feared?" She murmured quietly, knowing the chances of facing further difficulty in Calais were high. Georg confirmed her worries with a tight nod, his eyes downcast and jaw set in frustration, his body rigid. Maria's eyes flew to LeGrand who didn't look at all surprised by her husband's outburst. If anything he looked grave, regretful, almost sympathetic.

"Whatever's the matter?" Madam LeGrand interjected, eyeing Georg in concern, her countenance worrisome.

"There's trouble in Calais," her husband responded quietly on his guest's behalf, "and it's their easiest means of getting out of the country.."

Georg's eyes locked with the farmer's and he gave a grateful bow of his head in response to the man's evident empathy - he was relieved his host had saved him of the burden of an explanation, since words were currently evading him.

Max, who'd quickly snatched the paper and skimmed through the lines with some interpretative help from Friedrich, sunk lower in his chair in defeat, "You mean to say," he asked, "that we might walk all that way only to find a _dead end_?"

"Walk?!" Madam LeGrand cried so loudly that her dog startled under the table and banged its head on the wood with a whine.

"The nearest train station is Gare Du Nord which is around 45 miles from here, and even then the trains will only get them to Belgium," Olivier explained to his wife as Georg nodded solemnly.

"And that would mean we'd have to connect to Dunkirk, which is unthinkable," Georg muttered, knowing the town was swarming with imminent danger.

He met Maria's eyes then and muttered a quick translation so that she could follow the conversation, her hand still grasped in his as she ran a soothing thumb over his knuckles. He'd expected her eyes to glaze over with sadness, her shoulders to slump in dismay at his words - but much to his surprise his unpredictable little Fraulein merely sat up straighter in her chair, squared her shoulders and looked him directly in the eye with a fierce determination that made his breath catch.

"When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.." She whispered, her eyes burning.

Georg could only stare at her, speechless. Oh how fiercely he wanted to kiss her in those moments, propriety be damned! Her reply was so simplistic, so naive and yet so hopeful that it stirred the very earth beneath his feet. His skin prickled with longing for his wife, with adoration for the woman before him, and he knew, right in the depths of his very soul, that as long as he had her by his side there would _always_ be hope, there would _always_ be opportunity, there would _always_ be light, there would _always_ be an open window.

"Surely you can't possibly walk.." Madam LeGrand pierced the charged moment between them.

"We have very little choice," Georg replied calmly, bringing his wife's hand to his lips and kissing it quickly, desperately in want of her lips.

A long silence hung in the room before Monsieur LeGrand heaved a deep sigh of reluctance.

"You _do_ have a choice," he retorted, as though his next few words were going to cause him a great deal of discomfort, "you can take our car.."

Before Georg had a chance to register the farmer's generous offer, Madam LeGrand hurled herself from her chair with a triumphant hurrah and threw her arms around her begrudging husband, beaming from ear to ear as she clung to him gleefully.

"Ohhh darling, I _knew_ you had it in you," she cried, as her husband's ears turned pink, "you big softie!"

"Yes, yes _alright_ ," he huffed impatiently, a hint of a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

Maria grinned, the farmer's prickly demeanour with a hint of compassion underneath reminding her all too well of a stubborn sea captain she once knew.

Georg met her eye then with a playful smirk that suggested he knew exactly what she'd been reminiscing about.

"I think we've just found our open window," he grinned.

* * *

Georg stared in sheer bewilderment at the vehicle parked in front of him, if it could even be called that. The rusting hunk of metal, which he guessed once formed a relatively useful truck, looked as though one flick of the wrist would send it crumbling to the ground. The bumper hung lopsidedly from below the grill, the windscreen smeared with dirt, the storage compartment in the back sagging so low it looked as though the whole vehicle had given up.

"It's not much," LeGrand shrugged to the family crowded around the driveway, as Georg bit back a snort of derision, "we were going to send her to scrap in a few weeks time but the old girl's got a few more miles in her at least. She's all yours."

Georg was momentarily rooted to the spot, holding his breath as he waited for the vehicle to suddenly collapse into a heap on the ground.

"Merci beaucoup," Maria chirped emphatically when her husband said nothing, anxiously noting his apparent displeasure and elbowing him hard in the ribs.

"Yes, yes of course!" he blurted, chastising himself for being such a snob, "I can't possibly thank you enough, we owe you both our lives. I'm..." He eyed the car with reluctance, "Speechless.."

The farmer gave a satisfied nod and Georg clapped him on the back by way of thanks as Maria wrapped her arms around Madam LeGrand in gratitude, tears prickling at her eyes. She was entirely overwhelmed by the couple's kindness in a world that seemed so shrouded in darkness. Not only had they been fed and watered, but the modest farmer and his wife had also allowed each of member of the family to bathe and take apples from the orchard for their travels. LeGrand had even given Georg a miniature pen knife for safety with an uncharacteristic, fatherly pat on the shoulder. Maria felt like a new woman as a result of their generosity and it filled her with a newfound strength to overcome whatever it was they were yet to face.

* * *

Much to Georg's bafflement and sheer relief, the rickety old truck seemed to move like an ace along the country roads and they'd made it almost three quarters of the way to Calais before they'd hit the standstill traffic. Hours had ticked by in the unforgiving heat, the entire family lolling in the storage unit at the back of the vehicle just to escape the claustrophobia of the seats. The traffic barely moved an inch in the hours they sat under the blistering sun and when night had eventually fallen, they'd succumbed to sleeping under the stars.

It wasn't until morning that the traffic finally began to move and when they'd eventually reached Calais it was to find the town in wreck and ruin, British and French soldiers swarming the streets as though another attack was imminent.

Georg hadn't quite believed their luck when he'd discovered that the soldiers were letting refugees through the port, and he'd spent many more hours queuing, battling through crowds, and even coming to blows once or twice - no better than the rogues he'd once commanded on his U-boats - in his attempts to obtain ten tickets for the next available boat. He'd never considered himself an aggressive man, at least not physically, but he'd soon recalled that desperation and fear of attack led men to do uncharacteristic things. It had all been worth it however, when his children has breathed their very first sigh of relief in weeks when their little legs marched onto the ship that was to take them to their grandparents, genuine happiness adorning their youthful features.

"How are you feeling?" Georg asked his wife as he joined her at the bow of the ship some time after it had left port, leaning his elbows against the edge of the vessel and gazing out onto the water where the pink sunset had begun to kiss the horizon. It really was a sight to behold, and he was confronted with a sudden thrill and deep sense of belonging when his eyes fell on the great expanse of sea that reminded him so much of his times atop his submarine back in his youth as an adventure-hungry sailor. He watched the gentle laps of the waves as a lump formed in his throat, pulling his wife close by the waist.

"A bit better," she murmured, following his gaze out onto the ocean stretching out before them, Calais having disappeared from view some time ago, "I had no idea I suffered from sea sickness."

Georg chuckled, taking her hand in his, "it happens to the best of us."

"However did you do it?" She asked curiously, "spending all that time out at sea?"

Georg pondered over her question for a moment, his brow creased in concentration as his hair rippled gently in the breeze. There was more to her question than first appeared - he knew she was talking just as much of leaving his family behind as she was spending months underwater.

"I suppose the sea and the navy were my very own windows at times when I felt that God had closed a door," he replied, his eyes glazing with memories of adventures past, of another life, of friends made, of battles won, of wives lost, "It was my home away from home. It made me who I was, who I still am."

Maria paused, as though contemplating his words, before making another declaration so simplistic and beautiful that the earth seemed to shift on its axis.

"I'm sure she'd be so very _proud_ of you, my darling," Maria whispered, the admission causing his heart to still in his ribs.

"Oh love," he choked, simply unable to form words, the admiration he felt for this selfless woman causing his meaningful replies to stick in his throat. Instead he simply gripped her hand tighter, swallowing past the tears of gratitude he felt forming behind his eyes.

A meaningful silence hung between them as they shared a kiss and gazed out onto their past reflected in the sheen of the water, apprehensively awaiting what was to become of their future, leaning on each other for the strength it would take to get them there.

Wordlessly, Georg pulled the pen knife LeGrand had given him from his pocket, rolling the possession between his fingers lazily.

"Would you care to do the honours, Baroness?" He grinned, holding the knife out to her with an adorable gleam in his eye, the dimples she so loved denting his cheeks.

"I'd be delighted, my Captain."

And with that, Maria mischievously leaned towards the wooden railing of the vessel that marked a new beginning in their lives, and scratched their initials into its smooth surface.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed the update! again please do let me know if it's losing its spark as I want to make sure I'm keeping it interesting! it should be coming to a close in a few more chapters**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: firstly, thank you so much for all the reviews, I love reading each and every one of them and they encourage me to write faster! This chapter explores Georg and Agathe's past a little bit but everything is purely fiction for the sake of the story. I know it was Agathe's grandfather, not her father, who invented the torpedo but I've changed this again to suit the story, and I've altered names etc as well. enjoy!**

* * *

Hit by another wave of sea sickness, Maria had gone in search of the children and a comfortable place to sit, insisting that she would be perfectly fine and that Georg should stay out on deck. If he was honest with himself, it hadn't taken much persuading - he longed to look out onto the inky black canvas for at least a few more minutes, watching the choppiness of the majestic waves as they crashed against the boat, soothing his troubled soul as he found himself alone with his thoughts.

He allowed himself to close his eyes, to block out the bustling activity of the crowded deck around him and take a deep breath of good, clean, salty sea air. If he imagined hard enough, he could almost convince himself that he was stood atop one of his U-boats again after having broken the surface to watch the sun creep behind the horizon. On one or two occasions, he and his comrades would gather the few bottles of beer and whiskey leftover from the latest, debaucherous adventure at the nearest port, smuggle them back onto their U-boat and crack them open under the stars whenever they next surfaced.

Those memories were the fondest, the tranquil nights above water when all was still and he and his comrades could laugh and talk and forget that a war was raging, staring out to sea entirely unable to decipher where the black waters ended and the night sky began. Many of the friends he'd spent those evenings with had later died in battle, some of them drowning or burning to death before his very eyes. And it had all been for nought, he thought bitterly. Austria had lost its navy and along with it, he had lost his calling. He had lost his beloved sea.

He wondered how many submarines would soon be scouring the depths of the very ocean they were currently sailing on. Perhaps the water was swarming with them already, lurking underneath the murky depths just waiting until the order was given to fire deadly torpedoes at the nearest enemy ships. Or ships full of civilians. _Ships like this one._

He prayed the Navy of the Third Reich hadn't yet made it as far as the channel, for if they had, then the very boat they was currently standing on was quite literally sailing through dangerous waters.

"Almost _peaceful i_ sn't it.."

Georg snapped out of his reverie to find Max stood by his side, looking up into the twilight sky and observing the pinkish clouds as if he too was being confronted by fond memories.

"But for how long.." Georg frowned, the lump returning to his throat, "there's surely far worse to come.."

"Now what kind of talk's that.." Max chastised with a frown, meeting Georg's eyes wearily. The latter opened his mouth to offer a bitter retort, but he was cut off abruptly by the deafening roar of propeller engines coming from above, causing both men to suddenly throw their heads to the skies. The other families milling about the deck ducked with cries of alarm as several RAF fighter squadrons darted through the clouds overhead, soaring intimidatingly into the distance and fading from sight as quickly as they'd appeared.

" _Jesus._." Max muttered as the planes became minuscule specs on the horizon and the crowd around them cautiously got to their feet again, calm gradually restored.

"Rumour has it the RAF and the Luftwaffe are waging their very _own_ war in the skies," the impresario muttered to no one in particular, "the British media are calling it the _Battle of Britain_."

"The Luftwaffe is the strongest air force in the world," Georg snarled, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "so God help the RAF if it's true.. And God help _us_ if we're about to lead my family head first into another damned city ravaged by war.."

Feeling his scowl deepen, Georg allowed himself to contemplate for the first time _exactly_ what they might find in London when they finally got there. He'd always known, deep down, ever since war had been declared, that he would be risking his family's safety by bringing them here. London was a ticking time bomb but he had hoped and prayed that they would arrive before the city was torn apart by warfare. When Paris had been so viciously attacked however, he had known there was little hope for finding safety in London. But the fact still remained that he had very little choice in the matter. His money, Agathe's inheritance that she'd left to the children in her will - it was all in England's capital and it was, quite simply, the only key to his family's freedom.

"The only war you should be worrying about right now, my friend," Max broke the charged silence, tugging at his mustache cheekily, "is the one that's sure to break out between you and Baroness Whitehead during this little family reunion!" He elbowed his friend in his good shoulder playfully and took great satisfaction in the small hint of a smile suddenly playing at Georg's lips.

"Ah yes, the old _fire-breathing dragon_ ," Georg retorted with a gleam in his eye, much to Max's delight, "She's harmless really," he gave a dismissive wave of his hand, "it's all in the past... And once I was given the title of Baron she came round to the idea of her daughter having married such a.. What was it she called me? An _undignified rake_?"

"Well, the dragon certainly wasn't wrong," Max replied with mirth, eliciting a sheepish grin from his friend, "though I was talking more about her opinion of your recent broken engagement.."

"Ah.." Georg blanched, "well she _did_ think Elsa and I were a good match, but quite frankly my mother-in-law's opinion on my romantic endeavors is the _least_ of my worries."

"Naturally," Max nodded resolutely, "and if I recall correctly, you used to take great delight in doing whatever it was that would elicit her _worst possible_ opinion."

They shared a wry chuckle before a somewhat charged silence fell between them again, both brooding over the unspoken topic that neither of them had yet dared to approach.

"Will it be _hard_ for you.. " Max eventually broke the tension with a whisper, his voice grave with concern, "returning to Agathe's home.."

Georg cut him off with a curt nod, his jaw set heavily in frustration and his eyes darkening, "It will always be hard," he murmured, downcast, "But it's no longer painful. It's no longer unbearable."

Max clapped him on the back then in comfort, knowing all too well what his friend meant. The memories that were bound to haunt him when he entered the Whitehead's home - a home he hadn't set foot in since Agathe's death - would surely be incredibly difficult to face. But the difference was he had Maria by his side now, a truly remarkable young woman who had proven herself to be Georg's equal in every sense of the word. Not only would she be his rock, Max knew, but she would also encourage him to look back fondly, rather than shy away from his once painful memories. If Max was honest with himself, he knew that Agathe would not have been as resilient during such treacherous times as these. She had been brought up in luxury and while she certainly hadn't been a snob - far from it - she nevertheless didn't fare too well outside of her comfort zone.

Maria on the other hand, though Max chastised himself for comparing, had only ever known luxury during her time at the von Trapp villa, and even then she had been merely a bystander. She was certainly no stranger to misery, heartache and poverty and she demonstrated an unwavering strength when confronted with such burdens.

Georg had loved and cherished his first wife with all of his heart, that much had always been certain. When it came to Maria however, it was quite plain to see that not only did he love her desperately, but he also _needed_ her desperately, in a way that he'd never needed anyone else before. And Max had no doubt in his mind that his friend would _always_ need her, until he took his last breath.

* * *

The children had been over the moon to see their _Oma_ again, and the elderly baroness had wrapped them each in a bone shattering hug with tears of relief pooling in her eyes. She'd even wrapped Georg in a warm embrace, murmuring something about desperate times and water under the bridge. He'd found himself lost for words - their relationship had been somewhat frosty in the early stages of his courting Agathe but after they'd married and as the years had ticked by, he and his mother-in-law had grown to tolerate each other - even to _like_ each other. She'd resented him somewhat for leaving a heavily pregnant Agathe at home each time he went away on another mission, but she'd also understood his fierce sense of duty, her husband being a sea-faring man himself. Robert Whitehead had invented the torpedo after all and the baron could do nothing but sing his son-in-law's praises.

When Agathe had passed, Georg hadn't been able to face the memories he knew he'd be confronted with if he saw his in-laws again. He couldn't bare to visit the family home where he and Agathe had spent so many summers with the children when they were very young. And so after her death, he would send his brood to the Whitehead's villa in Vienna whenever the in-laws were visiting in Austria, and though Robert's telegram would always insist that Georg was more than welcome, Georg would politely refuse.

His only correspondence with the Whiteheads over the last four years had been to discuss the children, or to talk directly to Robert about the Royal Navy's U-boat mechanisms, which Georg had agreed to help with before war had been declared.

In light of his inexcusable neglect, Georg had expected a tirade of anger and bitterness from the woman he once referred to as the _fire breathing dragon_ , much to Agathe's chagrin. But the elderly woman instead looked utterly relieved to see him, concerned for him as only a mother would be for her son, and it moved him deeply.

What stirred him the most however, and caused the ever growing lump to form in his throat again, was the way Magaret Whitehead had welcomed Maria into her home. He wasn't sure what he'd expected from his mother-in-law with regards to his new wife, but he certainly hadn't foreseen the kindness with which Magaret had gripped Maria's hands and pulled her into a meaningful embrace. He had warned the Whiteheads of course, when he'd made contact with them about fleeing Austria - he'd explained that he'd be making his way to London with the woman he loved and that this woman was _not_ Elsa Shraeder, as they had initially assumed. They'd fled Austria before any form of reply could be received and so he had predicted that Magaret would be frosty at best and absolutely outraged at worst when they finally arrived. Affectionate displays, especially towards new acquaintances, were simply unheard of in the British aristocracy, particularly in the Whitehead household - and Georg simply couldn't mask his surprise.

"Losing your only daughter changes you," Magaret had bristled slightly when she'd noted Georg's gaping expression, "you'd have known it yourself years ago if you ever visited."

She had paused until Maria was out of earshot before she'd leaned closer to Georg, her eloquent British accent ringing in his ears, "while I may have approved of the match between you and Baroness Shraeder, what good is title and birth in times like these? It's the love of a _strong woman_ that will give a man the means to survive."

Georg had merely stuttered in bewilderment. It seemed the fire breathing dragon had turned into a pussy cat! A pussy cat with alarmingly accurate observations...

It had been a relief to make it to London, though the journey had been just as treacherous as the last. The port at Dover had been mayhem, as expected, but they'd managed to board a train a few hours later, much to Georg's relief. It had almost felt as though they were finally leaving the danger behind them, but Georg had known better. And as they pulled into the capital city, it was to find that Agathe's birth place was almost unrecognisable. Buildings were boarded up, some reduced to rubble, shrapnel and debris littered the floor in places and children were being evacuated on every corner, naively excitable as they boarded trains and buses while waving goodbye to their weeping mothers. It had deeply unsettled him, knowing that he was leading his own children into a city that saw death and destruction as so incredibly likely, that they were evacuating their own youngsters. Newspapers adorning the news stands on several street corners had been splashed with headlines that talked of the so-called _Battle of Britain_ \- intense combat was breaking out in the skies over southern England and it was surely only a matter of time before the Luftwaffe turned their attack away from the RAF and toward British civilians.

"We can't stay in London for long," Margaret announced that night as the family began to light a few candles around the room to battle against the pitch darkness created by the boarded up windows, "it's not safe."

"Where will we go?" Maria asked in broken English, looking rather pale and cuddling a tired Gretl against her. Truth be told, she still felt a little ill from the boat journey, but she didn't want to burden the family with her unsettled stomach.

"We'll head to our country home in Northampton," Magaret explained, "Robert will be joining us there on leave for a few days."

Though long retired, Baron Whitehead had been commissioned by the Royal Navy to put his expertise to good use at the training base in Hampshire and had leapt at the chance to be of greater help in aiding the war effort. Against his protestations, Magaret had insisted on staying in London to wait for her grandchildren and Georg had been eternally grateful - if she'd left the city, it would surely have been impossible to find them.

"I didn't know you had a country home in Northampton," Georg frowned.

"We bought it last year," Baroness Whitehead snipped, "another thing you might've been aware of if you'd visited."

Georg could've sworn he heard Max snigger in the corner of the room but decided to let the subtle chastisement slide. He probably deserved it after all, he hadn't been the only one grieving after his first wife's death but he'd gone out of his way to shut his in-laws out.

"We'll leave in the morning," Margaret continued, "and then we'll at least be out of harm's way."

There was a general sound of agreement from the whole room before Baroness Whitehead called for the butler and asked for a spot of tea with bread and jam to be brought to the dining table.

"He's the only member of staff who's remained," Magaret sighed, nodding towards the butler as he left the room and pouring the tea out amongst her visitors, "the rest have all evacuated."

"How long has it been like this?" Max asked, gesturing to the boarded up windows.

"The destruction on our doorstep you mean?"

Max nodded.

"Weeks.." she muttered, spreading butter on a piece of bread, "until now the fighting has mostly been in the skies but air raids are surely imminent - that's why the government have ordered this evacuation scheme. They've tried to relocate as many children as possible. I myself have taken on two little dears in Northampton that were separated from their parents here in London a week ago. The maids are currently looking after them until we arrive."

Georg nearly choked on his tea at the thought of his previously frosty and rather snobbish mother-in-law allowing two unfortunate children from the slums of London to take refuge in her country home. This was the very same woman who had looked down her nose at him not twenty years ago for being nothing more than a grubby sailor. Perhaps war and loss really _had_ changed her.

"Why can't they be with their mother?" Marta asked, her innocent eyes blown wide as she moved absentmindedly to Maria's side.

"Because they need to be somewhere safe darling," Georg soothed, "and Oma's home in the countryside is very safe."

"Oma," Kurt interrupted with a beaming smile, clearly influenced suddenly by the talk of mothers, "tell us that story about our Mother and the boat, it always makes me laugh!"

Georg's heart began to pound and Margaret's head snapped up to meet his eye, an apology waiting on her lips, "I.. I used to tell them stories about Agathe, Georg.. when they visited in Vienna," she explained, her voice softening sympathetically, "I apologise.. It just made them so happy."

"It's fine," Georg choked, "I would love for you to tell it."

"Really?"

"I insist," he answered truthfully, his heart in his throat, knowing exactly which story Kurt had been referring to. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Max that the memories were no longer unbearable - in fact they often brought a fond smile to his face, as though he were remembering an old friend. But even after four years, the ghost of his first wife hung in her family home like a heady perfume. Every room reminded him of her, every trinket, every photograph had a story behind it. While the pain had certainly ebbed away and he'd found the strength to allow Agathe's memory to live on in his heart without it ever compromising the love he felt for Maria, the difficulty of such a loss was still there when surrounded by so many triggers.

At the mention of their mother, the older children had eyed their father apprehensively, their faces creased with worry. After all, he had changed dramatically since he'd regained his memory, but it was still very seldom he would reminisce so openly about his first wife. Their youthful faces had visibly relaxed however, when they'd heard his consent.

It was only Maria who continued to watch her husband pensively, as Baroness Whitehead began her tale. Georg's eyes were downcast, his jaw tight, his fingers drumming agitatedly on the table top, and Maria was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness to know that he was struggling with his past demons. She'd briefly wondered, on their way over to England, how he would react to being back in the place that spoke so much of Agathe. Even the walls seemed to whisper of her presence, so much so that Maria almost felt as though she'd known the woman herself.

Georg had spoken of Agathe rarely throughout their short relationship - little tidbits here and there about her favourite food or a memory involving the children - and Maria had never demanded from him any more than he was willing to share. Hearing a story directly from Agathe's mother was fascinating, as though Maria were watching a reel play out a part of her husband's previous life she'd never been privy to.

"It was when your father was courting," Maria listened to Baroness Whitehead's tale with avid curiosity, her eyes never moving from her husband's anguished face, "your father had been granted some leave here in England and he came to spend time with us - we were all visiting at your great-grandfather's home in Devon at the time," the children listened eagerly, despite having heard the story countless times before, "your father, being the stubborn mule that he is, insisted on taking your mother out on the lake - no doubt to get her _alone_ for half an hour," Georg gave a sad chuckle that broke Maria's heart, his eyes glazing over with memories.

"Well, your great-grandfather granted the request, much to my dismay, and we all watched from our places on the veranda where we were taking afternoon tea," the baroness continued, "I could see your father suddenly standing up in the boat from the corner of my eye - quite clearly attempting to show off," she rolled her eyes emphatically, "and you can imagine my abject horror when his larking around suddenly caused the little boat to entirely _capsize_! Your father fell headfirst into the water, taking your poor unsuspecting mother along with him and creating the biggest splash you've ever seen!"

The children roared with laughter and Maria's jaw dropped in disbelief. He'd chastised her so fiercely when she'd capsized his very own boat all those months ago back at the villa! And yet the rogue had done the very same thing in front of his intended's family not two decades previous! He'd made her feel ridiculous that day, sopping wet on the marbled floor, and all the while he'd made the exact same mistake back in his youth! The man was _incorrigible_!

She watched her husband's eyes gleam with mischief and his lips curl into a warm smile at his children's laughter, the previous sadness having been replaced with a fond nostalgia that suddenly bathed Maria in a comforting warmth. His eyes locked with hers then and he grinned sheepishly, knowing all too well what she was thinking, and Maria knew instantly - as the adorable dimples made their appearance on his handsome face - that she would forgive him his devilish hypocrisy.

"If I recall correctly," Georg grinned to his family, "Agathe found the entire ordeal rather hilarious."

"Well _I_ certainly didn't!" Baroness Whitehead retorted, scandalised, "that beautiful dress of hers was entirely ruined! Her grandmother nearly had a _heart attack_!"

"And yet I _still_ managed to win fair lady's heart," Georg winked at his beaming children playfully and Maria was confronted with an intense longing to wrap her arms around him, to pull him to her breast, to run her fingers through his hair and tell him how awed she was by his strength of character. All she could do however, was meet his eyes again from across the table with a look that spoke only of her adoration, silently willing him to understand that Agathe's memory would _always_ be welcome. He smiled meaningfully then, as though they were the only two people in the room, as though she were the only woman in the world, and mouthed the sentiment she saw burning away in his softened eyes.

 _"I love you."_


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: again thank you for the amazing reviews, I'm ever so grateful. I keep meaning to bring this story towards its end but it is taking more chapters than expected so thanks so much for sticking with me!**

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The night had been a difficult one as they counted down the minutes until morning, staring at the ceiling, fingers entwined, feeling as though they were holding their breaths and startling at every noise as though it were another shell blasting into the city streets. They had been entirely exhausted, but Georg simply couldn't rest until they were out of the capital city and safely nestled in Northampton where the threat on his family wouldn't be so great. Like every other step in this godforsaken journey, all they had to do was get to the next pitstop, the next juncture - Whatever happened after that, they would have to worry about when they got there. It was the only way to ensure they had the strength to continue putting one foot in front of the other.

After they'd put the children to bed and bid goodnight to Baroness Whitehead, they'd made their way to one of the many guest bedrooms and sunk onto the edge of the bed with heavy sighs and slumped shoulders, the only light emitted by a single candle that Georg had lit. A weary silence had hung between them then, the flicker of the candle dancing across Georg's grave features, highlighting the square of his jaw, the worry lines creasing his face, the darkness lingering in his irises. It was startling really, Maria had thought as she'd studied him, how quickly her stoic captain could flit from playful and joyous to troubled and vulnerable.

"Is this...?" She had whispered compassionately, breaking the silence and looking around the room apprehensively, but he'd cut her off with a slight shake of his head.

"No," he'd murmured wistfully, "no, she and I used to stay in one of the other guest bedrooms down the hall. I couldn't.. I can't.." He'd become suddenly agitated and Maria had turned to him in comfort, stroking the stray hairs from his furrowed brow and kissing the ridges etched there.

"Shhh my darling, shhh," she'd soothed against his skin, watching him as he'd closed his eyes in relief against her ministrations, "there's absolutely no need to explain, love. This was her home, the memories here.. they must be rife. And difficult.. And you've been through so much -"

She'd fallen immediately silent when he'd suddenly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her flush against him and burrowing his face in her bosom. In any other circumstance, his response would have led her to believe he was desperately in need of her body again, in need of the physical and sexual relief he so often sought from her. In this particular circumstance however, she'd known without a word uttered between them that he would not ask such a thing of her. And she would certainly never offer it. _Not here_. Not where the memories of his first wife were so raw and so real.

Instead, it had turned out, much to Maria's sorrow, that her so often resilient and unbreakable captain was in need only of _comfort_. A similar sort of comfort to that which a vulnerable boy might need from a mother. And she had acquiesced willingly, cradling his head against her chest and rocking him gently as silent tears had rolled down his cheeks.

He'd clung to her unashamedly, allowing the emotion to expel from his body until the tears had eventually stopped falling and his breathing had steadied against her chest. She'd taken his face in her hands and lifted it to her own then, kissing away the water stains and whispering words of reassurance against his flushed skin.

"How I _love_ you," he'd choked, with so much feeling that she'd felt her heart still.

"Oh Georg," she'd sighed, her eyes glazing with her own tears as she leant her forehead against his, "I hate to see you suffer so."

The words were barely out of her mouth before he'd shaken his head in protest, gripping her hands in his with determination, "for once, these aren't tears of sorrow darling but tears of joy," he'd murmured through a watery smile, "Listening to Margaret's story and watching the children.. They were just so _happy_. I was entirely prepared to feel utterly miserable upon hearing it, but for the first time in four years, I suddenly found myself filled with gladness," his eyes had shone with hope as they'd burned into her own, "Gladness that I was lucky enough to share those memories with her. Gladness that I have finally found the strength to look back fondly. And gladness that I have met you."

She'd opened her mouth to tell him that it was she who was the blessed one, that it was she who'd found a life in him, that it was she who'd discovered her very purpose in what they shared - but he'd silenced her with an unexpected and languid kiss - a gesture not of lust, not of desire, not of need, but of adoration and fervent awe. He'd only broken away reluctantly when she was entirely breathless, determined not to let her gentle sighs distract him from the purpose of his speech.

"Yes, it will hurt at times," he'd continued, stroking his fingers down her silken cheek, "and I'm often sad for what once was. That's unlikely to ever truly go away - loss is a complex burden. But for the first time in four years, I find myself utterly content with my lot. I find myself hopelessly in love once more. And I can hardly believe it. The realisation is entirely overwhelming and yet an utter relief all at once."

"Hence the sudden tears.." She'd replied and he'd nodded in affirmation.

"I'm sorry," he'd said gravely after long seconds in which they simply held each other, "for doing this to you."

She'd gripped his face in her hands once more and eyed him with a fiery determination, "never, ever apologise for sharing these things with me. I wouldn't change it for the world, Georg. In fact, one day I hope to hear many more stories like the one Baroness Whitehead shared today."

"You do?" Georg had appeared positively astonished.

"Of course!" She'd exclaimed, "She was the mother to those seven wonderful children I've come to love, she was the very first woman to win your heart. Quite honestly, I'm rather fascinated."

He'd said nothing then, rendered speechless, fixing her only with a grateful smile for the undeniable support she'd offered, not just that night but ever since the day he'd met her - even when he'd been too stubborn to realise it.

Later, when they'd been lying awake restlessly in the darkness for hours with only the faint sound of unrest humming through the night air in the distance, Maria had been astonished when Georg had suddenly threaded his fingers through her own and broken the silence with a barely audible whisper, "I remember once, when Leisl had just started to walk.." The silky tendrils of his voice wrapped around her heart and bathed her in warmth, "Agathe and I managed to lose her in the villa for a whole hour...we were beside ourselves with worry..."

And before Maria knew it, Georg was regaling tale after tale of his late wife and his children's younger years, talking animatedly of past memories as though a floodgate had suddenly opened in the deepest recesses of his heart. And Maria had found herself giggling mercilessly along with her husband's deep rumbling laughter at an amusing tidbit, welling up with sadness when he'd quietened at a particularly melancholy anecdote, or gasping in surprise upon hearing a sudden twist in a tale. Time had fallen away as he'd shared a part of himself with her that night, a part that he'd rarely shared with anyone. And it filled her with such overwhelming joy to hear him in his element, the enthusiasm with which he looked back so fondly leaving her breathless with happiness.

After the laughter evoked by the latest anecdote had finally ebbed away and a comfortable silence had replaced the mirth between them, Georg had rolled onto his side to face his wife, cuddling up to her body and encasing her in his arms.

"Thank you, my darling," he'd murmured meaningfully into her hair.

"Whatever for?"

"For helping me to remember."

* * *

When daybreak finally came, the cracks of light spilling through the gaps in the boards aligning the windows, Maria had been roused from a disturbed sleep by an equally bleary eyed Georg. Before long, the entire family had piled into the Whitehead's Mercedes with a disgruntled sea captain at the wheel, a fidgeting Gretl plonked in his lap for lack of room in the back seat. The journey to the country home had taken no longer than an hour and Maria was glad to finally be surrounded by rolling hills and countryside, miles of quintessentially English landscape that remained entirely untouched by war. It was just as well that they'd left so abruptly, for they would later hear reports on the BBC of civilian attacks in England's capital as the Luftwaffe turned their animosity towards the city streets - a series of horrifying bomb raids that would later become known as The Blitz.

The country home was slightly smaller than the Whitehead's London manor but there was still ample room for everyone and Georg had to admit to himself that he was a little relieved to be somewhere entirely new and fresh, somewhere free of the constant and sometimes suffocating nostalgia. His contentment soon turned into delight when he discovered that Robert Whitehead was there waiting for them and it was plain for all to see that the elderly baron held no animosity towards his son-in-law for having kept his distance for so long.

"Georg my boy!" the silver haired gentleman's booming voice rung with affection as he clasped his son-in-law by the shoulders, "it's been far too long."

"I'm ashamed to say that's all my own doing," Georg had shrugged sheepishly, but Robert merely brushed his concerns aside with a flippant wave of his hand and demanded, with a jovial smile, to be introduced to the lovely young girl on Georg's arm.

Before long the twelve of them had taken to the drawing room and the three men were huddled in the corner over a table with their heads bowed, clasping tumblers of whiskey in their hands and muttering quietly about what Maria assumed was Robert's dealings with the Royal Navy.

She watched them curiously from her position on the carpet where she and the children were sat in a circle playing cards, wondering what could possibly be so fascinating as to keep the men so thoroughly distracted. But she was soon dragged from her reverie by an impatient tug on her skirt.

"Mother!" Marta's timid voice was uncharacteristically demanding, "mother, who are _they_?"

Following the young girl's pointing finger with a snap of her head, Maria was greeted by the sight of Baroness Whitehead standing in the doorway with two very little children attempting to hide behind her legs. They couldn't have been much older than Gretl, their ruddy cheeks glowing pink under the scrutiny of eleven pairs of eyes. They wore modest clothes but were freshly washed, their hair still slightly damp and framing their innocent faces.

"Hello," Maria grinned warmly in English at the two evacuees that Baroness Whitehead had told them about, "my name is Maria. What are your names?"

The timid girl fixed her gaze firmly to the floor, her cheeks reddening, while her brother scowled slightly in suspicion.

"This is Lucy and Thomas," Baroness Whitehead declared, gently guiding the two youngsters into the room where they stood apprehensively, wringing their hands in front of them. A somewhat charged silence hung in the room as the little boy and his sister shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Do you want to play with us?" It was Kurt who suddenly broke the tension, beaming broadly and gesturing to the pair with his fistful of cards. His compassion evoked a fierce pride within Maria that left her grinning, and not ten minutes had passed before the two English children were sat amongst the group, laughing and frolicking as innocent children should. It had taken Maria even less time to get Lucy and Thomas on side, and as the afternoon passed into early evening, the two little ones began to cling to her with complete adoration - a gesture that reminded her all too well of another group of children who had once been desperately in need of a mother's love.

* * *

Evening fell surprisingly quickly and Maria had every intention of putting the children to bed herself, but nausea was biting at her throat again, leaving her head spinning. She was entirely relieved when a concerned Georg volunteered for the task instead, pushing her gently back into her chair in the drawing room and insisting that he would see to the children. Maria had acquiesced willingly - the fatigue was clearly taking its toll on her body and she was looking forward to an undisturbed night's sleep in the peaceful countryside.

"He's quite a doting husband, is he not?" Baroness Whitehead smiled warmly as Georg left the room, taking an elegant sip of her tea.

"He's wonderful," Maria agreed, allowing the steam from her own cup to caress her face as she held it to her lips, "I'm truly blessed."

"As is _he_ ," Baroness Whitehead insisted, and Maria realised she felt entirely at ease when alone with this woman, despite only having met her the previous day. She somehow exuded a motherly air that evoked a deep sense of comfort.

"It's quite clear to see just how much of an impact you've had on his life, my dear. You are a strong woman to say the least."

"I wish I _felt_ strong," Maria scoffed, "right now I feel utterly rotten!"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry," the Baroness chuckled into her tea, "Agathe was exactly the same!"

"How do you mean?" Maria frowned.

The elderly woman gave a soft laugh, as though recalling a fond memory, "Oh she used to suffer from _terrible_ morning sickness at all hours of the day!"

Maria's eyes blew wide and she began choking violently on her tea, her heart ricocheting off her rib cage and jumping into her throat at the Baroness's shocking declaration. But before she'd had a chance to truly descend into panic, the sudden sound of shattering glass was heard in the doorway, causing both women to whirl around in alarm. There in the entrance to the room, looking as though he'd seen a ghost, was Georg, one hand clutched to his chest while the other steadied his shaking body against a dumbstruck Baron Whitehead - a tumbler of amber liquid having smashed to bits at their feet.

Maria gulped.

"You're... You're _pregnant_?!" Georg rasped, his eyes boring into Maria from across the room, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his face creased in anguish. It was quite clear he was about to panic enough for the both of them and Maria was desperate to quash the ridiculous notion, to say something that would calm the imminent meltdown. But she could only open and close her mouth repeatedly like a goldfish, rendered entirely speechless by the earth-shattering implications of the Baroness's observation. She felt as though the world was shifting under her feet, as though reality was unraveling around her. _It couldn't possibly be true, could it? The baroness was surely mistaken._

The woman in question looked entirely bewildered, her eyes darting from Maria to her son-in-law to her husband and back again in confusion, "neither of you knew?!" She blurted incredulously, completely losing her aristocratic composure.

"What do you mean _knew_!" Georg cried, running a hand through his disheveled hair and clutching tighter to his increasingly uncomfortable father-in-law for support, "there's nothing to know!"

"There most certainly _is_ ," the baroness retorted matter-of-factly.

"Maggie!" Robert warned apprehensively, "what could possibly make you so sure?"

"I can just _tell_.." Margaret insisted with authority, gesturing at Maria as though she were a sculpture for analysis, "I was right all seven times with Agathe.. I knew before she'd even had a chance to tell me! A mother can _tell_!"

"My God," Georg exclaimed, recalling all too well the almost spooky intuition with which Margaret had guessed about every single one of Agathe's pregnancies.

"I thought you both knew and were simply waiting for the right moment to inform Robert and I!" Margaret crowed, "I just wanted to give you a little nudge, I had no idea you were _oblivious_!"

Georg leaned against the wall and sank down onto his haunches, his head buried his hands, " _oh god,_ " he groaned again in dismay, feeling the baron's reassuring grip against his shoulder, though he found it brought him very little comfort.

"We still don't know for sure Georg," the older gentleman soothed apprehensively, "this is based on pure assumption."

Maria observed the scene in silence, a gradual anger bubbling at her chest as Georg's head snapped up in hope, "that's right!" He cried, waving an accusatory hand at Margaret, "you could be wrong! Maria may simply be suffering from exhaustion, nothing more!"

" _Maria_ is sat right here!" Maria suddenly snapped from her seat in the corner of the room as the three other occupants immediately fell silent, their heads jerking up to face her for the first time during their exchange, "and she would very much appreciate it if you would all stop discussing her potential pregnancy as though it were the world's greatest _burden_!"

Georg's heart sunk when he noted the hurt etched across her face, the fear darkening her eyes, and he realised they'd entirely ignored her throughout their panicked conversation, talking about her as though she weren't even there. _How could he have been such a boar?_ He'd been so wrapped up in his own concern that he'd entirely overlooked the overwhelming mixture of feelings emanating from her youthful features. She must've been utterly terrified and he'd been too selfish to even notice. The turmoil in her voice sent an unwanted shiver down his spine.

He watched helplessly, unable to form a worthy sentence as she suddenly hauled herself from her chair. Her chin was pointed in defiance and she didn't utter so much as one word as she flashed her flinching husband a look of pure fire that did nothing to hide the tears welling in her eyes, before she fled from the room, leaving Georg to hang his head in shame.

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 **A/N: oh Georg, you buffoon! Perhaps in the next chapter he can make things right. And hopefully this is good news for those of you who look forward to the steamier scenes!**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: this chapter is rated M just FYI. I hope you all like this update, as always I love to hear your thoughts. A huge thanks to those who are still reviewing!  
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It was only when he was bounding up the stairs, taking two steps at a time in his urgency, that Georg suddenly realised he had no idea which bedroom his wife had fled to. Halting in his tracks at the top of the staircase, he looked to and fro frantically and found himself cursing the size of the house as he was confronted with rows of seemingly identical doors.

Looking to his left again, he was fairly certain that the farthest few bedrooms were occupied by his sleeping children - he remembered having turned left when he'd put them all to bed a mere hour ago. Only the rooms on the right remained a mystery. Whirling round exasperatedly, he threw a curse heavenward and began to march down the corridor.

He was absolutely _furious_ with himself. How could he have behaved so appallingly? He'd been so terrified when confronted with the sudden possibility of bringing an innocent child into a world darkened by war that he'd hardly allowed himself to consider the kind of joy he'd feel in creating new life with a woman as extraordinary as Maria. His heart leapt in his chest unexpectedly at the thought, a fierce love and protective pride coursing through his veins. She was his very own treasure and now it was entirely possible that she was carrying a little miracle, a tiny little creation that was half him and half her.

Of _course_ her potential pregnancy wasn't a burden, he could hardly contain the rush of love flooding his heart as he thought of what they might have created together. It was the uncertainty engulfing their lives, the danger lurking on every corner, the startling realisation that nobody was truly safe - it was _that_ particular burden which had caused his unacceptable reaction. Quite frankly, he was _terrified_. Terrified of being unable to protect his wife and unborn child.

A low beam of light shone from under one of the doorways and Georg halted outside it, heaving a deep sigh of relief at having located Maria. He took a few steadying breaths as he prepared to face the music, before knocking lightly on the wood. Too ashamed to take his eyes from the floor, he shuffled into the room apprehensively and willed himself to find the right words to penetrate the tense silence.

"Darling.. I can't apologise enough," he murmured to the carpet, fidgeting in his discomfort, "I was such a _boar._."

Silence.

"I behaved appallingly.. " he implored, "Please darling, give me the chance to explain myself."

An awkward clearing of the throat from the direction of the bed caused Georg's head to snap up in surprise and he was dismayed to find an extremely bemused Max eyeing him with raised eyebrows from atop the sheets, a book clutched in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. The impresario smirked gleefully and raised the glass he was nursing by way of greeting.

"You? A _boar_ , Georg?" Max's lips curled into a wicked smile, " _surely not._ What have you done this time?"

"Max!" Georg growled, mortified to have been caught in such a vulnerable state.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," the impresario beamed with mirth, "I take it you're looking for your beloved?"

Georg bit his tongue, unwilling to rise to the bate.

"Helped yourself to the wine cellar already I see," he bristled with unrepressed disdain.

"Naturally."

Georg rolled his eyes and made to leave the room, far more pressing matters occupying his mind. But Max called him back before he had a chance to escape.

" _What?"_ Georg huffed impatiently, turning to face his friend.

"I think you'll find the er.. _dog house_ is outside.."

With another growl of indignation, Georg whirled on his heels and stepped into the hallway, slamming the door a little too hard and leaving Max chuckling mercilessly behind him.

* * *

Any heartache caused by Georg's less than frivolous reaction had quickly ceased, replaced instead by a potent mixture of anger and resentment. Maria's scowl deepened as she paced the length of the bedroom repeatedly, muttering various unpleasant adjectives under her breath that best described her husband in those moments. Her silk nightgown, one of many items of clothing the Baroness had been kind enough to purchase ahead of the family's arrival, billowed around her knees helplessly as her pace quickened, and she found that she was lathering herself up into a self-righteous rage. She felt as though she were back in her room in Aigen all those months ago, when her formidable employer had insisted she return immediately to the abbey. How _dare he_ behave so abhorrently in the discovery that she might've fallen pregnant with his child!

Her pacing slowed to a sudden stop. _His child._

Could it really be true? She wondered, allowing her hands to run smoothly over her flat stomach. Could they have created the miracle of life together? The thought of a tiny baby, _Georg's_ baby, growing inside her filled her with a sudden warmth that spread low in her back and left her limbs feeling heavy. What a wonderful, beautiful thing it would be, to bare and raise her husband's child!

The warmth that bathed her back began to reach an angry boil again however, when she considered how Georg had tainted the possibility and twisted it into nothing more than an inconvenience. The man was every bit as pig-headed and insufferable as the day she'd met him!

The sudden creaking of the door behind her roused her from her thoughts.

" _There_ you are.." Georg's voice, soft and remorseful, broke her livid reverie and she visibly tensed as she heard him shuffle into the room, the anger twisting dangerously in her stomach.

She stood with her back to him, her shoulders hunched in defence, and Georg breathed a sigh of distress when she said nothing, refusing to turn around and face him. He wondered, with a sense of shame, whether she was crying and simply didn't want him to see her tears.

"Maria," he implored, "please darling.. Allow me to apologise, I behaved appallingly.."

Silence.

"I don't know what came over me," he took a few steps closer, reaching gently for her arm in his attempts to sooth her, "I was a _coward_ , darling, I-"

But the words died on his lips when she spun around abruptly at his touch, and shoved him away from her with a fiery resolve, her glare burning with such animosity that he almost sunk to the floor. If he'd been concerned that she was crying, he needn't have worried, for her eyes were alight only with a passionate determination, her jaw clenched in her righteous anger as she rounded on him like a lion on a gazelle. Entirely stunned, he stumbled back slightly, her advances surprisingly strong where her palms had made contact with his chest, "Maria! What on _earth_ -"

But she was apparently too livid for words, for she took another forceful step towards him like a prowling panther and shoved him again, her face marred with rage. More than taken aback by her fiery disposition, he searched her eyes by way of explanation and was suddenly knocked breathless by what he saw there. Flickering away in her darkening irises, and causing his heart to thud wildly in his chest, was a dangerous mixture not only of anger and hurt but - dared he believe it - _desire_ as well?

And that was his last coherent thought before his wife suddenly threw herself into his arms with a fierce groan of relief, biting at his mouth insistently and grabbing fistfuls of his hair between her fingers. Entirely bewildered, he'd barely managed to catch his breath before her tongue was running over his relentlessly, and the very hands that had shoved him so vigorously only moments ago were suddenly grappling to undo his shirt buttons with a desperate urgency.

Maria wasn't sure exactly what had come over her but when his fingers had brushed her arm she'd found that her raw anger was suddenly accompanied by a startling and fiercely primal desire for the father of her unborn child. It was his seed, his very _essence_ , that had potentially created life inside her and the knowledge left her almost animalistic with a need to be close to him, to be joined with him, to be as close to him as she could possibly be. Shoving his shirt aside and splaying her hands across the bands of muscle on his chest, she found herself giving in to the lethal combination of fury and arousal coursing through her body, shoving him a final time and sending him stumbling onto the edge of the bed.

Georg was entirely incapable of forming a coherent sentence as he watched his wife, a woman possessed, pulling her nightgown over her head impatiently, his mouth agape as she climbed atop his lap. He was entirely astonished by her sudden change of behaviour and he thought briefly of stopping her, of stilling her frantic movements so that he could apologise to her properly, so that they could talk about what had happened. But if he was entirely honest with himself, he found her sudden and angry desperation _overwhelmingly_ arousing. Never before had he seen such a demanding side to his wife, at least not in their most intimate moments, and he was loathe to break the powerful spell that had overcome her as he felt his own need building at an alarming rate.

They hadn't made love since their time in the barn, though Georg could hardly refer to this latest encounter in the same way - for it was _anything_ but loving. There was no intimacy in her actions, no gentleness, no languid teasing - only a frantic and insistent passion that set his body aflame. She was angry with him, that much was certain, but it seemed that desire had won out and her animosity towards him had found a new and powerful outlet in the form of lust. It was utterly intoxicating.

Within moments he found himself splayed on his back by a firm hand, hardly able to keep up as she freed him from the confines of his trousers with effortless ease, pooling his clothing at his ankles hurriedly. Mere seconds later, she was throwing her head back and drawing him slowly into her body, eliciting a low growl from his throat that he could hardly contain. Her full breasts were tantalisingly on display only inches above him and he reached out for them hungrily, only to be left bereft when she caught his wrists mid-air and pinned them back down against the sheets on either side of his head, her eyes burning a hole in his face. When she finally freed him, he tried again, reaching this time for her waist in a desperate attempt to pull her closer. But she pinned him down impatiently for a second time, entirely prohibiting his touch.

" _Maria._." He nearly begged, desperate to run his fingers along her silken body - but she quickly covered his mouth with her own, biting down on his lower lip just enough to convey the message that he ought to remain silent. He realised, with a jolt of intense arousal and frustration, that he _knew_ this Maria. It was the very same Maria who had given him a thorough dressing down by the lake in Aigen all those months ago, the same ferocious governess who'd put him in his place with her burning blue eyes and passionate fury. Only now, she was not out-smarting him with her words but with her _body_ , using him chiefly for her own pleasure and denying him any part in helping her achieve release.

She had entirely stripped him of control and he could do nothing but acquiesce to the madness, her desperate intensity driving him to the brink of sanity. It was immensely satisfying and yet overwhelmingly frustrating all at once. To feel her sheathing him entirely but being completely unable to touch her. It tampered with his male pride and he could do nothing to alter the pace, could do nothing to enhance her ecstasy, could do nothing but take what she was willing to give - and he was shocked and elated to hear her demand explicitly and uninhibitedly all the things that she so desperately wanted to take from him.

Panting for breath, he could feel his iron control over his own body slipping already, his release building dangerously at the base of his spine. He couldn't bare the thought of it being over so soon but her frantic need was stirring his body beyond all reason. He had no idea what had elicited such a wild side to his wife but if this was her idea of punishment for his unacceptable behaviour.. well then he'd happily take it a thousand times over.

She rocked frantically against him, her hips driving relentlessly as she moaned her approval, and he watched in fervent awe as she skated her own fingers wantonly across the parts of her body that brought her the most bliss. It was too exquisite to bare, watching her unashamedly deriving her own pleasure without being able to take part himself, and he found his hands fisting in the sheets as he gritted his teeth against the sweet agony of her advances.

It seemed as though her torture would never end, as though she would keep him suspended on the brink for all eternity as she languidly attended to her own needs, and he resisted the all-consuming urge to pull her down flush against his body and anchor her around the waist so that he could drive his hips frantically upward into her. Her gasps and moans were becoming more emphatic, more insistent as he felt her tighten around him, and he found himself on the cusp of begging again, absolutely beside himself with the knowledge that she was bringing herself close to orgasm.

It was only when she finally threw her head back, announcing through short, strangled gasps that she was about to climax around him, that he suddenly felt his own body jerk and shudder violently, the indecency of the sultry words on her lips pushing him over into a release that tore through his body with a thunderous intensity.

He knew nothing of his surroundings for a long time, vaguely aware of her moving off him and collapsing on the sheets next to him as she gasped for her own breath. It was then that he felt the shame creep back in, not only for his behaviour in the drawing room, but for giving in to her advances when he should've stopped the madness and explained himself instead. But the truth was, he'd missed her desperately since their last encounter in the barn and her intimacy, no matter how much anger lay behind it, had been impossible to resist. Never before had he been so utterly floored by a woman. In all of his encounters with the women he'd once bedded in a previous life, he had always been the one to take the reins, to gently goad them into ecstasy, to show them all the ways in which sexuality could be explored. And it had been so with Maria, _until now_.

He turned his head to face the woman who'd entirely captured his heart, willing himself to catch his breath and approach the subject that desperately needed to be addressed. She was staring at the ceiling, her bare chest rising and falling rapidly, the blush he so adored spreading across her neck and up into her cheeks.

"Darling..." He rasped, "that was..."

She didn't meet his eyes and instead sat up quietly, moving away from him and shuffling towards the end of the bed. The flames had subsided and the hurt had returned to her eyes.

" _Oh Maria,_ sweetheart please let me explain," he fairly begged, pulling his trousers up from his ankles and shimmying down the bed to meet her. He placed a hand tentatively against her back and when she didn't flinch away from him, he leant in and pressed his lips gently to her bare shoulder, running loving kisses across her skin and against the hair at the nape of her neck.

"You were very _cruel_ , Georg..." she whispered into the tense silence and his heart broke at the sudden vulnerability in her voice. The fiery temptress who'd claimed his body only moments ago was now nowhere to be seen, replaced by a fragile girl who's feelings he had hurt.

"My reaction was entirely unacceptable Maria," he implored, jumping to his feet and pacing agitatedly in front of her, running weary hand through his hair, "but you _must_ know I didn't respond that way for the reasons you think."

She met his eye for the first time then but still she said nothing, giving him the opportunity to explain himself. He sunk to his haunches at her feet, his face torn in anguish as he gripped her hands in his.

"Darling," he began, looking up into her wide, guileless eyes, "the thought of having a baby with you fills me with so much joy I can barely contain it. You are entirely extraordinary and I have no doubt in my mind that a child of ours would be every bit as extroadinary as its mother. But with the war.. The danger, the uncertainty. I _panicked_." He swallowed hard in an attempt to ease the lump in his throat, "you're entirely precious to me and if you're carrying my child I'm the luckiest man in the world. But what..." His voice broke, "What if I can't _protect_ you both from what's going on out there?"

Suddenly everything was startling clear to Maria and her heart flooded with a fierce compassion and overwhelming empathy. This brave, stoic, passionate man crouched before her, this man who'd fought desperately for his principles, this man who was begging for her forgiveness in all his vulnerability - this man was absolutely terrified of losing his family.

"Oh _Georg_ ," she sighed, taking his face in her hands and pressing her lips to the creases along his brow, "if I am indeed carrying your child it'll be the luckiest, most fiercely protected child to ever live. War or no war."

Her words did nothing to ease the furrows of worry across his forehead and she leant in to kiss him deeply on the mouth by way of reassurance, "admittedly darling, if Baroness Whitehead _is_ correct in her assumptions, it has come at a rather inopportune time," she continued, "but you must know that this child will be so loved, so _cherished._ If we've created life together, then I regret nothing."

He wrapped his arms around her then and pulled her flush against him, breathing a heavy sigh of relief, "whatever have I done to deserve you?" He murmured into her hair, taking great comfort in the scent of roses and lavender that greeted him there, "Can you forgive me?"

"Always.."

Long moments passed then, moments in which they simply clung to each other in comfort, until he eventually pulled back and placed a gentle hand against her abdomen.

"I can't believe we might've created life together.." He cracked a watery smile, "who would've thought it.. "

"Well we don't know for certain.." She smiled, stroking her fingers down the length of his cheek.

"We need to go to a doctor as soon as possible," he replied, his face hardening slightly, "and if it's what we think, it will be entirely wonderful and I'll be overjoyed. Please don't ever doubt that for a minute my love. But if it _is_ indeed true, then we will need to stay put, here in the countryside. At least for a while."

She nodded solemnly, completely unsurprised by his declaration and its implications. Their plan had been to stay in England a few weeks at most, before boarding a ship to America. But with the Blitz raging across the country, with the ports being targeted so violently by the Luftwaffe, it would be suicide to attempt an escape with a pregnant wife and seven children in tow.

Wordlessly, as though there was nothing else that needed to be said, he pulled her to her feet gently and they climbed under the sheets together, wrapping themselves into a tight embrace amidst the cocoon of warmth and protection they'd formed there. Whispered words of adoration were shared, worries confessed and reassurances uttered, before the lovers eventually fell into a restless slumber, she spooning intimately against his protective frame and he resting a strong hand absentmindedly against her stomach.

* * *

 **A/N: next chapter up soon I promise!**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: quick update as promised, though this chapter is slightly shorter than the last. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless and I never get sick of the reviews!**

* * *

"Well, congratulations Mrs von Trapp," the Whitehead family's personal physician, Doctor Knight, was sat opposite the wide-eyed couple in the guest bedroom, his smile warm and his countenance relaxed as he knitted his fingers together in his lap, "your assumptions are indeed correct."

"It's _Baroness_ actually," Georg corrected on a mutter, his voice sounding entirely alien to him as he fought for breath. He immediately felt incredibly stupid for focusing on something so irrelevant in light of such significant news and chastised himself inwardly.

"My apologies, _baroness_ ," the doctor nodded politely in the direction of a gaping Maria as though they were doing nothing more than making acquaintances at an afternoon tea party.

"How long?" Maria squeaked, her heart thudding in her chest.

 _How long?!_ She screamed inwardly, feeling a panic begin to rise like boiling water beneath the surface. _It hardly matters how long! You're pregnant now whether you're ready or not, you foolish girl!_ When Georg had been the one flying into a panic she'd been calm, collected and reasonable in light of the possibility that she was carrying his child. She'd been the balm he needed when he'd doubted himself and she'd felt entirely at peace with the notion of mothering his offspring. She'd almost felt elated, despite the imminent danger of the war around them. But that was when the possibility had been merely that - a _possibility_. Now, she was very much facing reality. Now she was facing self-doubt. Now she was facing the imminent arrival of a newborn infant. Now she was finding herself suddenly empathising with Georg's previous trepidation.

The panic in her chest began to twist itself into an ugly swarm of irrationality that suddenly surpassed all logic, rising into a tornado of fear. _Georg._ This was all his fault! He'd gotten her into this mess! With his burning blue eyes and..and stirring masculinity! What woman _wouldn't_ have been entirely powerless to resist?! He'd gone and used his brooding sea captain charms to seduce her and and had ended up putting a baby in her belly. A baby she'd never be able to raise with any sense of discipline or decorum or aristocratic grace, let alone keep safe during the uncertainties of war. What on earth had they been thinking, engaging in marital affairs so carelessly?!

A crippling sense of dread flooded her body when her mind confronted her with a vivid image of a diaper-clad hooligan tearing through the house like a tornado as she ran after it hopelessly, disapproval emanating from everyone who was witness to her failures as a mother. Her rogue of a husband may as well have impregnated her with a _barn animal_ , for that was surely the kind of child she would end up raising! She rounded on Georg faster than Kurt on chocolate cake.

"You!" She cried, jabbing an accusatory finger into his sternum, _"I hope you're happy!_ "

Georg's jaw dropped in disbelief, _"me?!_ What did I do?!"

 _"I'm Captain von Trapp,"_ Maria mimicked in a deep, stern voice, entirely forgetting herself in front of the family doctor, _"I'm dark and mysterious in a way that even_ I _don't understand and I'm in desperate need of comfort from a woman who can tame my brooding ways..."_

Georg turned a unflattering shade of puce at his wife's uncouth outburst and avoided the doctor's uncomfortable gaze.

"What exactly are you implying!" he retorted, scandalised.

"Would you like me to draw you a diagram?!" was the sarcastic reply.

Georg looked to the doctor in desperation, absolutely incredulous. It seemed however, that Doctor Knight was in no hurry to come to his rescue.

"Err.. I'll give you both a minute..." He launched from his seat uncomfortably and fled the room in a flash, clearly all too familiar with the volatility of a pregnant woman's emotions. _Traitor!_ Georg thought jealously as he watched the doctor leave. If only he too could escape from the oncoming storm that was a frenzied Maria von Trapp.

By the time he turned back to face his wife she was already pacing the length of the room, muttering incessantly and running her fingers through her disheveled hair. She looked almost wild, and he found himself wondering if he himself had looked that way in the drawing room a week ago when Baroness Whitehead had made her observation. Gone was the poised and composed woman that he'd so often leant on for comfort and reassurance in the dark times since they'd left Aigen. Instead he saw the doe-eyed and skittish young girl who'd whirled into his life all those months ago with no real understanding of the world around her. She looked lost, startled, terrified.

Her pacing was so frenzied it was making him dizzy and she seemed to have completely forgotten about his presence in the room until she suddenly came to an abrupt halt and whirled round to face him again.

"You couldn't just..just.. _Keep it in your pants_ could you!" She cried almost hysterically, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Wha..?! That's hardly fair!" Georg spluttered, "If I recall correctly, you were every bit as eager to.. To get it _out_ of my pants! What you just said in front of the doctor was outrageous!"

She blushed scarlet then, despite herself, but resumed her frantic pacing once again.

"Maria darling what is this actually about?" Georg pressed, baffled, "when we first suspected that you might be pregnant you were all happiness and determination-"

"I didn't think about what I'd do if it were actually _true_!" She blurted in a panic, "I can't raise a child Georg, I can barely tie my own shoe laces without tripping over! I was raised on a farm for goodness sake! _A farm!_ I reared piglets and calves, not aristocratic children! How will I teach it what to say, how to act, how will I teach it which silverware to use?! There's always _so much silverware_ Georg!"

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry then, as it began to dawn on him why she was so upset. The very thought of her being a bad mother seemed utterly ridiculous to him. She'd proven from the minute she catapulted into his life that she was more of a parent than he'd ever been. Her self-doubt left him entirely astonished and he suddenly realised she really had no idea of how much his family needed her. Suddenly overcome with a fierce rush of tenderness, he launched from his seat on the bed and stilled her pacing with a tight embrace,whispering hushed reassurances into her hair until her erratic breathing began to slow.

"Shhh darling, it's okay," he whispered, stroking her hair affectionately as he pulled her closer, "you do realise don't you, that you were the best thing to happen to this family in a very long time?"

He received a little sniffle into his shoulder by way of reply and he found himself stifling a grin at how adorable her humility was, "you gave seven unruly children far more than a mere governess to look up to," he continued, "You gave them a mother to love, a parent to follow. At a time when their father was too wrapped up in his own selfishness to give them what they needed."

Maria pulled back and opened her mouth to defend him but he merely pressed a gentle finger to her lips and silenced her.

"Just as you reassured me that I'm more than capable of protecting our unborn child during this godforsaken war, it is now _my_ turn to reassure _you_ that you are already a mother in every sense of the word. You're a mother seven times over, my darling. And now we have the blessing of an eighth," his grin spread wide across his face then, and she smiled in return, a lovely warm smile that stirred him deeply and confirmed that her hysteria had passed.

"Eight children!" She breathed in mock dismay.

"I was rather hoping we could make it a round ten?" He smirked.

She looked entirely scandalised, "How could we _possibly_ -"

" _Would you like me to draw you a diagram_?" He mused seductively, moulding her to his body as he caught her smiling lips in a languid kiss.

Just as he was about to show her exactly what no diagram could possibly demonstrate, the long forgotten doctor knocked lightly on the door and poked his head apprehensively into the room.

The couple jumped apart in embarrassment and Maria couldn't stifle her giggle when she noticed her captain blushing sheepishly.

"Good," the doctor grinned, "I see you two have made amends."

* * *

The weeks had passed quietly in Northampton since Maria had discovered she was expecting, and life had resumed a level of normalcy that she thought she'd never experience again after leaving Aigen. Summer had rolled into Autumn and she would spend golden afternoons with all nine of the children in the extensive grounds of the country home. Every morning without fail, she would drill them in their studies and the older von Trapps in turn would help her improve her English. Evenings were spent enjoying light conversation around the dinner table as they had done in Aigen, though the food was much more modest in light of the rationing that was necessary up and down the country.

The expecting couple had agreed to keep their exciting news from the children for the time being and had only informed them that they'd be staying in England for the foreseeable future, given that the ports were rife with danger. Thomas and Lucy had been overjoyed to discover that their new friends were here to stay, made evident by their whoops and cheers of genuine joy - in the weeks that had passed since their arrival, Maria had been delighted to see that the two English children had made fast friendships with the von Trapp brood. Within days it had felt as though they'd always been part of the tumultuous adventure and it seemed the youngsters were grateful for the newfound company.

It was only Baroness Whitehead's incessant pestering that had led Maria to share their news with the other adults over a late night 'tipple' exactly one week after doctor Knight's visit. Margaret had congratulated them with an exuberant hurrah and bone-crushing hugs, waiting only a minute before enthusiastically enquiring about how far along Maria was, her lips curled in a self-satisfied smile at having been proven right.

"Doctor Knight guessed at around a month or two," Maria had replied, sharing the Baroness's wry smile and knowing all too well why she had seemed so smug.

" _A month or two_.." Max had smirked knowingly, raising his eyebrows at Georg, "and you got married about..." He had trailed off and begun counting on his fingers emphatically.

"Yes _thank you_ Max!" Georg had growled in warning, eliciting a low snort from Baron Whitehead into his glass of scotch.

Robert had since returned to the naval base in Hampshire and his presence was sorely missed amongst the children, who had a very close relationship with their grandfather. Even Thomas and Lucy were sad to see him go, knowing all too well that he was potentially facing great danger. The only other indication that war was still raging was the odd noise at night or the wailing of the air raid sirens that would send them all running for the basement, where they would take refuge as a family until the danger eventually passed.

It had filled Maria with a deep rush of affection when, during the third week, little Thomas had hurled himself into their bedroom late at night after hearing the distant sound of airplane propellers and, without the slightest hesitation, Georg had wrapped the frightened boy protectively in his arms amidst the sheets until they'd both fallen asleep. Maria suspected the boy was particularly fearful after having lived in London at the beginning of the war, as he was still easily startled by noise and seemed only to be appeased when he was curled up in Georg's fatherly embrace.

 _Yes,_ Maria thought, life had fallen into a relatively ordinary routine that she was very much grateful for, surrounded by the love and happiness of her family. Things were as normal as they _could_ be in light of the war raging on their doorstep. The only thing that had begun to strike her as slightly _un-_ ordinary was the fact that Georg's behaviour had taken a rather _peculiar_ turn.

Once or twice before Robert had left for Hampshire, she'd caught her husband and the baron talking in low whispers that would abruptly come to a halt whenever she made her presence known. After Robert's departure, Georg would regularly disappear into the baron's study at exactly the same time every few days, claiming that he was in need of a solitary whiskey.

He was a terrible liar and Maria was determined to find out what he was up to. It simply wasn't his way to keep things from her and the possibilities left her feeling rather overwhelmed, fearing the worst. Whenever she attempted to broach the subject in their private moments however, he would rapidly distract her with hot, open mouth kisses that led her to a place where all thoughts of peculiar behaviour were very much a distant memory.

Her hormones were raging and she often found herself ravenous for her husband's body, a physical hunger that surpassed everything she'd ever known, and a deeply primitive, emotional desire to be close to him. And he took full advantage of this need of hers, knowing all too well that she'd be powerless to resist his advances and delighting in her evident desperation. The resulting encounters were frantic, wordless, carnal, and deeply rewarding, leaving her so sated she would fall asleep before having the chance to confront him again.

There was no denying it. Georg von Trapp was a stubborn man. But what he'd clearly failed to consider was that Maria was a stubborn _woman_. A woman who knew that if she wanted to determine the cause of her husband's strange behaviour, she would have to do so via some other source. A source that was far _easier_ to crack.

* * *

" _Max?_ " Maria's smile was sickly-sweet as she idled onto the veranda where the unsuspecting impresario was enjoying a solitary cigar. He looked rather taken aback to have been disturbed but soon returned her smile with a jovial one of his own.

"Hello my dear," he gestured warmly for her to join him, and she sidled closer, trying her best to appear nonchalant, "wonderful evening isn't it."

Maria nodded her assent.

"If you're looking for Georg he's in the-"

"Study? Yes, I know," she interrupted, "with his.. _solitary whiskey_.."

Max chuckled lightly, before taking another drag of his cigar, "precisely. It's a sacred relationship you know - that which exists between a man and his whiskey."

Maria rolled her eyes impatiently, "Perhaps it's a torrid affair he's having with his whiskey tumbler that's making him behave so peculiarly then!"

She didn't miss the uneasy sideways glance that Max threw her, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced instead by another chuckle that sounded almost nervous.

"You know Georg.." the impresario shrugged nonchalantly, "that man loves a sanctuary in which to brood."

"Hmm.." Maria replied suspiciously, her eyes narrowing as Max attempted not to blanch under her sudden scrutiny. It seemed obvious that the man was becoming visibly anxious, fidgeting from foot to foot and clearing his throat unnecessarily.

"He seems to have a _very strict_ brooding schedule.." Maria replied with mirth, her lips thinning, "the exact same time every other day, in fact.."

"Is that so?" Max retorted uncomfortably, staring pointedly at his feet, "He always did love orderliness.."

"And he.. _broods_.." Maria drawled the word sarcastically, "For exactly fifteen minutes at a time.."

The impresario tugged at his moustache nervously, "Brooding time is to be strictly observed, no exceptions..."

Maria's eyes narrowed into slits and Max visibly avoided her intense stare. It was quite evident to Maria that the impresario would never have fared too well under torture.

"The most _bizarre_ thing however," she provoked lazily, as she began to circle the agitated man like a prowling lioness, "is the fact that Robert actually keeps his whiskey in the drawing room _._. _Not_ the study..."

Max's head snapped to attention then and he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly like a goldfish, as though doing so would evoke some sort of excuse worthy of a solid defence. When no words came, their eyes locked dangerously, a silent understanding hanging palpably between them that the game was up - whatever the game might be.

"You know something.." Max's eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps.." Maria played coy, "or is it _you_ who knows something.."

The impresario's eyes flashed, as though he were suddenly hungry for gossip, "I _might_ know something.."

"Well I can't tell you what I know unless you tell me what you know.." Maria snipped.

Max shook his head violently, "I can't _possibly_ tell you what I know.."

"Okay _fine_!"

"Fine!"

The silence was so thick a knife would've failed to cut it and Maria could hear nothing but her own adrenaline thundering in her ears. _She was so close to cracking him!_

"You don't know anything." Max smirked triumphantly.

And then it hit her - a piece of ammunition so simple it made her lips curl into a salacious smile. _Oh, she had him alright._

"I do know _one_ thing.." She purred dangerously.

"And what's that?" was the suspicious reply.

"I know where Margaret keeps the keys to the wine cellar.."

Max's eyes blew wide in utter dismay, the thought of someone tampering with his beloved wine apparently too much to bare, "You wouldn't dare!"

"I'll lock that cellar and hide away the key so fast, you'll forget what Merlot even _looks_ like!" She cried victoriously, knowing she had him right where she wanted him.

Max gulped as though someone had threatened to rob him of his entire livelihood, "you would do well behind enemy lines _Fraulein_ \- you're positively merciless!"

"With all this rationing you'll have to make do with water, maybe orange juice if you're lucky..." Maria teased, circling him intimidatingly again, "it's going to be a long few months, hiding out here without the _wicked_ pleasure of a good drink-"

"Alright alright!" Max cried, holding his hands up in surrender, "you've got me, my dear - _touché_. I really did warn him..."

Maria grinned triumphantly but the smirk was soon wiped from her face when Max breathed a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Georg has accepted a post with the Royal Navy."

* * *

 **A/N: naughty Georg! This was more of a (hopefully) humorous chapter with a few story developers in there so I hope you enjoyed.**


	33. Chapter 33

"Now Maria.. Don't be upset," Max encouraged, holding his hands up apprehensively as though handling a ticking time bomb, "Georg was going to tell you..."

Maria merely stared at him in abject horror, his words sounding entirely foreign to her as they flew in one ear and out the other. Her heart was ricocheting off her ribcage like a firework, her lungs were filling with wool, a million thoughts and feelings were firing through her brain as the impresario's sickening revelation began to sink in. _Georg had accepted a post with the Royal Navy? Without telling her? Surely it was impossible! Was the man completely insane?!_ Her blood began to turn over in her veins as she contemplated what it might mean for their family if it were true. Would he be leaving for Hampshire? Would he be sent away on a U-boat for long months at a time? Or worse... Would he never come back? Bile began to rise in her throat and a shaky hand flew to her chest absentmindedly in an attempt to elevate the potent mix of fear, anger and betrayal that had begun to knot there.

They'd talked at length about their fears for their unborn child, the worries they both felt in bringing new life into a world riddled with danger. Reassurances had been shared and loving consolations whispered between them in their most intimate moments - to the point where she'd naively felt that nothing and no one could ever harm their growing family. Nothing would be able to penetrate the protective cocoon they'd wrapped around themselves. Only, it had all been a lie. Georg himself was about to singlehandedly rip the cocoon apart. _How could he?_

Stirring from her reverie, she realised that Max was still babbling incessantly in a desperate bid to sooth her panic, tugging at his moustache so forcefully in his agitation that Maria found herself wondering whether it would come clean off his face. Realising that she wasn't listening to a single word he was saying and that he may as well have been speaking Japanese for all she cared, she suddenly knew exactly what she was going to do. As quickly as it had come, the panic in her chest began to dissipate like a thinning smog, and it was quickly replaced by a fiery resolution that was only enhanced by her dangerously rampant hormones.

Max was utterly at a loss. He'd never been particularly well versed in calming women down, or talking to women at all for that matter, and it only served to unsettle him further when his words seemed to do nothing but evoke an unnerving, blank stare from the young lady before him.

He'd quickly lost track of the utter drivel he was spouting, the nonsense streaming from his lips unreservedly in his failed attempt to undo the damage he'd evidently done - but he immediately fell silent when, much to his horror, Maria suddenly snapped to attention and squared her shoulders in bold determination, her eyes blazing with fury as they burned straight through him.

 _Oh god_ , he knew that look.

" _Maria._. Come now, don't do anything rash.."

But it was too late. She had already turned on her heels and begun marching back into the house like a woman on a mission, without so much as a word uttered, as though she hadn't even heard him, leaving him to splutter idiotically into the night air.

"Oh Christ!" he spat in indignation, knowing all too well where the feisty Fraulein was headed. This could only end in disaster, particularly for him. Georg had been reluctant to share his plans with Max but in the end it had been Robert who'd insisted he be privy to the secret. The baron had quickly realised that the impresario was both cunning and relentless. That, coupled with the fact that it had been nearly impossible for Robert to discuss matters with Georg without Max also being present, meant that the elderly baron and the stubborn sea captain had eventually acquiesced.

It had become easier for Georg simply to let Max in on the plot, but the impresario had quickly warned him of the dangers not only of risking his life, but of falling victim to Maria's wrath if she were to find out. Georg had been less than thrilled by Max's impertinence and had sworn his friend to secrecy in such a threatening way that even the playful impresario had had the smirk wiped from his face. No, this would not end well for Max if Georg found out.

Picking up his heels in a flash and moving faster than even the sound of champagne being uncorked could stimulate, he hurried after a raging Maria, already aware that his warnings would likely fall on deaf ears. No one ever listened to Max Detweiler.

 _And quite rightly_ , he admonished himself bitterly, _you imbecile._

* * *

Slamming the phone down with self-satisfied conviction, Georg leaned back in the rich leather chair that lay behind Robert Whitehead's mahogany desk, crossing an ankle over his knee and knitting his fingers together in thought. He glanced at the majestic grandfather clock on the far wall and noted he'd been on the phone to the baron for no more than ten minutes - an adequate amount of time to avoid raising any suspicion from other members of the household. Pondering his predicament, he felt an unwelcome surge of guilt course through him but abruptly dismissed it, knowing all too well that such feelings were entirely counterproductive in light of what he and Robert were trying to achieve.

The naval project they had been discussing ever since his arrival in Northampton was entirely top secret and required not only Georg's expertise, but his unwavering discretion as well. There would be no second chances, there would be no coming back from it if the information were to fall into the wrong hands. _Clumsy hands like Max Detweiler's_ , he thought bitterly, questioning for the millionth time why his father in law had trusted the world's biggest gossip with such sensitive knowledge. It was just as well that Max knew nothing of the project itself - only that Georg was working for the Royal Navy - for if he knew of the _type_ of work that Georg was involved in, the impresario might've been far more insistent with his warnings.

Georg had looked over the odd document here or there for Robert even back when the war was nothing more than a rumour - that much was no secret. But this particular line of work was entirely different. Secrecy and discretion had always been part of his role at the height of his naval career and in this particular case it was absolutely imperative. It wasn't working discreetly that Georg found difficult, or even the pressure of being trusted with such delicate information. Nor was it the dangers of associating himself with the enemy of the Third Reich. No, for Georg, the difficulty lay in having to lie to his wife.

Despite the necessity behind his secrecy, it simply didn't sit right with him to deceive Maria. In truth, he abhorred it, battling inwardly with a shame and self-repugnance that left him feeling entirely hollow. And what was worse was the fact that she'd begun to notice. She'd begun to notice the way he withdrew into himself, or turned to physical intimacy to avoid communication. She'd begun to notice how he disappeared and returned to her soon after, suddenly dark and brooding. And her face, her beautiful face etched with worry and concern, her guileless eyes asking wordlessly for his honesty, it was enough to make him want to pour his aching heart out.

Not to mention the fact that she was carrying his child. He'd laid awake countless nights since his arrival fretting over that very fact, knowing that sooner or later he would have to go to Hampshire himself, leaving his pregnant wife behind. He'd done the very same thing seven times over with Agathe and he despised the very thought of doing so again. It was for that very reason that he'd so uncharacteristically lost his head in the drawing room the night they'd suspected Maria was pregnant, though he had insisted it was merely the fear of bringing a child into a world at war. It had been half true at least.

Working with the Royal Navy was dangerous enough and the thought of leaving his family was painful, but he hadn't anticipated becoming a father again so quickly. The realisation changed everything. As soon as Doctor Knight had confirmed it, Georg had swallowed his own sense of panic, comforted his fretful wife, and then marched straight down to Robert's study to end all affiliation with the navy. He simply couldn't leave another pregnant wife alone.

"Don't be ridiculous Georg," Robert had snipped, when his son in law had stormed into the study, all guns blazing, "you made a commitment. To an extremely delicate project. You know as well as I do you can't just turn your back on it. Where's your sense of duty?"

"To hell with my sense of duty!" Georg had shouted, terrified of the mess he'd managed to get himself into, "my duty lies with my family first and foremost! I won't make the same mistakes again!"

Robert had sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, though when he'd spoken again his voice had suddenly been quieter, more compassionate, "Georg.. Do not punish yourself for what happened in the past. Your duty to your family has always come first and you should be very proud of that."

Georg had scowled stubbornly, recalling how much he'd blamed himself when Agathe had fallen sick.

"But remember what you told me when I first propositioned you with this project?" Robert continued, "when I warned you of its potential dangers?"

Georg's scowl hadn't faltered but he'd nodded reluctantly, "I told you I wanted to do my part in securing a better future for my children..."

"And does that not hold true now more than ever before?" Robert had encouraged, "knowing that Maria is carrying your child?"

He'd been right in the end. But it didn't matter what Robert had to say, or how Georg felt. Both men knew that a commitment had already been made. Robert had pulled a number of extremely influential strings to get Georg involved in such an important project and to walk away from it now would be considered desertion.

Once again, Georg admonished himself bitterly for making such a reckless decision, even before he knew of Maria's pregnancy. But he'd felt entirely useless, angry, a coward. He'd so desperately wanted to do something and he knew deep down that he'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't at least fight for his family's future. As difficult as the decision had been, he couldn't bring himself to truly regret it.

Without warning, the door to the study suddenly flew open with such force that Georg almost fell out of his chair. Flailing uncouthly to still the wobbling furniture and snapping to attention to see who could possibly have caused such a racket, he felt his heart suddenly still in his ribs at the sight that greeted him. There in the doorway, her face contorted in righteous anger and her breathing as ragged as a storming bull's, was Maria.

Georg gulped.

Before he could even open his mouth to speak, the thundering sound of running footsteps could be heard approaching and Max suddenly appeared behind Maria in the doorway, panting for breath and attempting to grab at her arm. But the furious woman seemed completely unperturbed by the impresario's attempts to silence her, merely tugging herself away from his reach.

"You're involved with the _Royal Navy_ Georg?!" She cried, her exclamation knocking the wind out of him.

Max made a bizarre noise then, somewhere between a defeated groan and a strangled whine.

"I don't think I've ever been so angry," Maria's voice broke, "or so hurt!"

"Georg -" Max interrupted breezily, his head popping up over Maria's shoulder, "I just want you to know, I had _nothing_ to do with this.."

" _Max_..." Georg's eyes burned with fury and the singular word rolled like acid off his tongue.

"She forced it out of me Georg! She's like some sort of-"

" _Get. Out._ " Was the dangerously steely response.

"Right you are!" Max chirped with false gaiety, before scurrying out of sight, entirely relieved to be dismissed from the imminent storm.

"Close the door Maria, darling," Georg sighed calmly. He knew he entirely deserved this particular turn of events and he would face it like a man. She acquiesced before whirling around to face him again, the pain written across her features making it difficult for him to even look at her.

"How _could you_ Georg.."

A long silence hung between them as he pondered how best to respond. How could he? It was a very good question. He'd made an awful mess of things.

"I needed to do _something_ ," he replied, his expression pained, "I can't just sit back and-"

"I'm not talking about _why_ you're doing it," Maria interrupted, "I know you very well and I fully understand the _selfishness_ behind your decision," He blanched at her words, "No," she continued, "I'm not asking you how you could put your family second - that I understand well enough. I'm asking you how you could keep this from me?"

He tried his best to forgive her angry accusation for he was more than deserving of it, but only one word fully resonated with him, causing his temper to flair.

"is that what you think of me?" His voice was icy cold, so much so that it sent an unwelcome chill down her spine, "you think me selfish?"

"I think you feel restless, useless, bitter that you have to hide in the shadows while other men do their part," she observed, the accuracy in her words causing his anger to bubble to the surface, "I think you made this decision to ease your own sense of guilt."

Again she was right, and it felt like a blow to the chest.

"But you don't have to _do this_ Georg!" She fairly begged, her voice sounding so foreign in its urgency.

"Please don't ask me to be less than I am Maria," he breathed, trying desperately to ignore the turmoil breaking across her face.

It was an unfair move on his part, to play on her loyalty towards him like that, and it caused the flames of anger to lick at her insides again.

"Don't _do that_!" She cried, her voice shrill, "do not guilt trip me for wanting you to stay here with your family! I cannot stop you from collaborating with the navy and neither would I ask it of you. But at the very least, I deserved to know!"

"I didn't want to frighten you," he murmured ashamedly.

"It's a little late for that!" she admonished, her eyes alight with passionate anger.

"I know that now!" was his bitter retort as he raised his voice, "I should've told you but I wanted to wait until it was fully confirmed. Only then we found out you were pregnant and that took priority over anything else. I tried to get out of the deal when I discovered I was going to be a father again, but it was too late by then Maria! I can't just walk away from it now, and in hindsight I'm glad for it."

"You're _glad for it_?!" She spluttered in disbelief, "you told me you were terrified of being unable to protect our unborn child, you told me you were scared to bring an infant into a world riddled by war. And now you're diving head-first _into_ that war! You made this decision without thinking of your family and _you're glad for it?_!"

He stood so abruptly that the chair nearly toppled over behind him, though he managed to refrain from thumping his fist against the desk in his anger. Her accusation was so far off the mark that it left him feeling physically wounded, "that is neither fair nor true! The very thought of our children living in a world ruled by a madman is so utterly abhorrent to me that it's enough to keep me awake at night!" He bellowed, "Men everywhere are dying every single day to stop that from happening! What will our children think of me when they become adults in a world torn apart by Nazi rule, knowing that their father did nothing to prevent it?!"

"Surely that's better than having no father at all, Georg!" She sobbed, "You could leave eight children fatherless and a wife absolutely heartbroken for goodness sake! And for what?!"

"I was one of the best in my field!" He shouted, "I survived before didn't I?"

"Why you _arrogant_ \- even the mighty _Captain von Trapp_ can't cheat death!" she threw her hands in the air in desperation.

His eyes were pure fire and his fists were balled at his sides as he stepped out from behind the desk, but she knew that his fury wasn't so much directed at her as it was at himself, "Friedrich is almost a man, how would I ever explain to him that his father chose to do nothing while boys not much older than he is fought for their freedom?" He took several steps closer, running an anxious hand through his tousled hair, "Leisl, she's not a girl anymore. Will I see her entered into a society ruled by nationalist thugs? Over my _dead body_!" He growled, moving closer still, his face darkening with anguish, "The little ones, easily influenced - will they, and others like them, be raised in schools where hatred and discrimination are not only accepted but encouraged?! If I can do even one thing to prevent that from happening then _yes,_ I am glad for it!"

"And what if you _are_ killed Georg?" her voice cracked with the strain of her turmoil, "am I to carve our initials into your _coffin_?!"

Her words cut him like a knife and within half a second he'd closed the remaining gap between them, grabbing her upper arms in his strong hands as the atmosphere suddenly thickened with a new and heated charge. She attempted to struggle away from his grasp but the fire burning in his eyes was so intense, so possessive, that her heart fluttered into her throat, leaving her entirely breathless. She knew that look. He'd look at her that very same way all those months ago when he'd found the Swastika hanging outside the villa - as though he'd wanted to protect her and devour her all at once. The heady mix of anger, sorrow and desire burning away in his irises was a surefire sign that he was suddenly ravenous with hunger for her body. And she was appalled to discover that, despite her anger towards him, the fire in his gaze filled her with a sudden and thrilling anticipation.

"Will I stand idly by while other men fight for my children?" He growled, his voice barely above a whisper. He was standing so close that they were eye to eye and toe to toe, the warmth of his breath against her face, his body flush against hers, the thickness of the air as it palpitated dangerously with anger and desire - it left her feeling suddenly intoxicated, "will I let other men die for my _wife_?!"

His stirring admissions fired an arrow straight to her heart and before she'd even had a chance to catch her breath, he was crushing his lips to her own with a possessive groan of longing and remorse. The furious heat in her gut roared instantly to life again at the sound, only this time it was accompanied by a newfound desire, leaving her entirely torn between wanting to rip him limb from limb, and wanting to strip him garment by garment.

Why did he have to say such _overwhelming_ things? Things that reduced her to a pile of wanton goo when she was attempting to discuss important matters. When she'd been a mere governess in the captain's household and witnessed the ways in which seemingly sophisticated aristocratic women would swoon over handsome gentlemen like helpless damsels, she'd rolled her eyes in derision and vowed never to fall victim to such silliness. And yet here she was, reduced to incoherency by nothing more than the honeyed sound of her husband's voice and the heady sensation of his lips on hers. It really was quite maddening but she found that she was already convincing herself, as he bit enticingly at her lower lip, that their conversation could wait. Until _after.._.

But the still rational part of her mind tried desperately to clutch at some form of resolve, and she attempted to break away from him in her determination. " _Don't.._." She sobbed half heartedly against his lips as she pushed against his chest, but she found herself kissing him back hopelessly when he pulled her closer, releasing his grip on her arms and wrapping her in a protective embrace.

" _I don't deserve you,_ " he rasped, barely leaving an inch between their swollen mouths, "and it makes me want you all the more.."

She tried to determine up from down but she was lost on a wave of sensation, his words setting her body aflame and her godforsaken hormones rampaging through her body like a drug as he palmed her breasts and nipped insistently at her throat. Through the lustful haze of fury, longing and madness, she felt him reach behind her, heard the suggestive snick of the lock, and in the blink of an eye he was carrying her across the room, lowering her gently onto her back atop the mahogany desk.

His eyes were dark with guilt and adoration as he covered her body possessively with his own, the need emanating from his gaze causing her breath to catch in her throat despite the lunacy of their actions. Here they were once again, she realised as his eyes never left hers, caught in that rare place of carnal desire and overwhelming sorrow, the knowledge of what was at stake evoking a longing for one another that suddenly surpassed all else.

"I love you," he gasped, and she realised that he meant every word, that he had been punishing himself with the weight of his secret and that it had pained him to lie to her. And now that the weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders, he was _desperate_ to find solace, to find comfort in her body once more.

"I _need_ to have you," he choked, his voice thick with emotion, " _tell me_ I can have you Maria."

She knew that he was talking not only of a need for her body but a need for her unwavering support as well. Could she give it to him? She wondered, knowing the danger he'd likely be putting himself in? She wasn't sure of her answer but there would be plenty of time to think about it later. For now, she didn't want to think of what her family had been through. She didn't want to think of the terror engulfing Europe. She didn't want to think of their uncertain futures. She wanted only to _feel._

"You can have me.."

The whispered words were barely out of her mouth before he gave a moan of relief, his fingers flying down the row of buttons on her dress, tugging the garments away from her body until she was exposed vulnerably beneath him against the rich wood.

How beautiful she was, he thought, so unashamed and strong in her fierce devotion to him, even when they were fighting so brutally - and he felt an intense rush of fervent awe and hunger as he frantically rid himself of his own clothes in his desperation to feel her skin against his. He'd meant every word when he'd said he didn't deserve her, and he could hardly contain the whimper of longing that escaped his lips when he finally moved between her silken thighs, gathering her as close to him as their bodies would possibly allow.

Her figure was not yet showing the visible signs of her pregnancy, but he willed himself to be gentle nonetheless, to lose himself in her slowly, to love her devotedly and languidly until she was gasping and trembling beneath him. She gripped his face between her hands, their foreheads pressed together as they shared heated whispers and ragged breaths, the pleasure building not only where their bodies were joined but where their hearts thundered together in synchronisation. Nothing existed besides their entwined limbs and the overwhelming mess of emotions emanating between them, the pleasure, the sorrow, the love, the anger, the fear, the anguish - all of which could be relieved only in the way their bodies relentlessly moved as one.

He carried her with him tirelessly, his darkened eyes only ever leaving her face when he chose to pour his adoration into heady kisses that turned her blood hot, the physical intimacy and emotional distress growing so intense that tears welled in her eyes.

But he stayed with her, his gaze locked with her own as he rocked their bodies devotedly, bringing his thumbs to her eyes and brushing away the tears that had begun to fall as she gripped him tighter.

"I'm here my darling," he rasped, cradling her trembling frame against his to shield her from her turmoil, as he felt every nerve burning, every synapse striving towards release, "I'm right here with you."

And it was the realisation that he always would be, the realisation that he would always stand by her side, the realisation that he would always strive to protect her, that finally sent her soaring high above the shadows into a place of blinding light and overwhelming solace. Mere moments later, her name tearing unreservedly from his lips, Georg followed her. As she knew he always would.

* * *

 **A/N: some may think Maria weak in this chapter for succumbing, but I think some unexpected things can happen when two people love each other and emotions are running high. Our favourite couple have a lot to discuss in the next chapter. But for now, I hope you enjoyed this update.**


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: next chapter as promised. Not as dramatic or angsty, I thought I'd give you all a break from the drama but hopefully it's just as enjoyable! As always, thank you so much for all the reviews, I'm eternally grateful.**

* * *

Georg ran his fingertips absentmindedly along Maria's forearm as they basked in the afterglow of their intense encounter, laying entwined on the dark leather sofa in the corner of the study. Somehow, moments after the chaos of their combined relief, he'd managed to gather what little strength he'd had left and lift his incoherent wife from the desk, carrying her to a more comfortable place in which they could catch their breath and calm their fast beating hearts.

The fire he'd lit only moments ago was flickering peacefully in the grate, it's light dancing in the shadows of Maria's eyes as he gazed upon her stony face. He was in awe of this extraordinary woman and floored by the strength of his need for her, both emotionally and physically. The raw pain and anguish that their argument had evoked, it had left him with a sudden and all-consuming craving for her intimacy, for her affections - like a scorned boy who'd been rendered desperate for love and approval.

But it wasn't his vulnerability specifically that had so fiercely rattled him, neither was it his carnal need for her affections that had reduced him to a man possessed. No, rather it was the sudden, primal, almost possessive need to be the one and only man to protect her, to fight for her, to lay claim to her in a way that no other man should. She was his very own, his whole heart, and the very thought of sitting idly while other men sacrificed themselves for her future had almost driven him mad with righteous anger and ravenous desire. She was _his_ to fight for, no one else's.

Neither had spoken a word since their frenzied intimacies, as though they were afraid to break the calming spell that had suddenly befallen the room, in direct contrast to the tornado of fury and passion that had existed only minutes prior. The only sound that could be heard was the gentle hum of Georg's lips as he pressed languid butterfly kisses to her neck and collarbone, but rather than sighing her approval as she normally would, instead she remained deadly silent. It worried him terribly.

"I need to know everything Georg," her calm profession suddenly penetrated the silence, though her eyes were still fixed on the fireplace, hard and unblinking, "If I'm to understand, if I'm to accept this. I need to know everything."

He sighed as though he had the weight of the world resting on his shoulders once again, and she felt him eventually nod his agreement where his chin was nestled in the crook of her shoulder, "I know," he whispered, "I should've told you from the start. Forgive me.."

She turned in his arms so that they were eye to eye, cupping a soft palm against his cheek, and he was moved to see that her expression spoke of determination despite the sadness he saw there. Her eyes were filled with questions and he realised, with overwhelming gratitude, that she was going to try her best to give him the support he needed. It was entirely less than he deserved. But despite his self-repugnance, he took a deep breath.

"Long before you came into my life, and back when the Nazi threat was merely a rumour," he spoke low, slowly, punctuating each pause with a gentle kiss pressed to her skin, "I was looking over naval documents for Robert. Just the odd plan here or there. Robert was retired, like me, but he's also sharp as a tack and he knew that war was imminent. And so he fell into talks with the navy again and had me cast my eye over some things they were working on in preparation. It wasn't until war was announced that the navy called upon Robert to return to full-time service and he jumped at the chance. I discovered all of this when I first arrived here."

Maria recalled all too well how the three men had been huddled together in the drawing room on the first day of their arrival all those weeks ago. It all began to make perfect sense.

"It was then that Robert told me about a project they're working on that could potentially bring the navy of the Third Reich to its knees," Georg continued on a murmur, "Naturally I was intrigued, hungry to find out more - it was the Captain in me I suppose. He told me my u-boat expertise could be invaluable to the cause. I knew then that I just _had_ to do _something_ Maria, I had to do my part in potentially sending the entire Kriegsmarine to the bottom of the ocean," he was becoming increasingly more agitated, as though trying desperately to defend himself, "I'm only needed in Hampshire intermittently - a lot of what I'll be working on can be done from right here in the study. It was one of the conditions I demanded when asked if I'd take the post. I won't have to leave you and the children for very long... "

His voice had become more frantic in his desperation to convince her and she soothed him with a calming hush and a palm pressed to his cheek. He closed his eyes and sighed against her ministrations.

"I'm so relieved to know you won't be gone for long periods of time," she confessed, "and better still, that you won't be going out to sea on any dangerous missions.. Because I'll admit Georg, I immediately feared the worst."

He nodded reassuringly, "I'll only be going to the base when it's necessary Maria, I promise you.."

She silenced him again with a gentle finger against his lips, "though every single time you walk out that door, no matter how seldom Georg, I will wait here in fear that you may never return. Please know that, and try to understand my reaction earlier today."

He nodded again, his expression pained against the shame he felt in causing her anguish, "I'm so sorry my love."

She responded by pressing a chaste kiss to his lips by way of comfort and asked on a whisper, "So what is it? This elusive project.."

Worry lines creased Georg's forehead once again as his desire to tell her the truth and his need to protect her waged a war of their own inside his head. She was right, she deserved to be told everything, but on the other hand, the knowledge could put her in great danger if anyone were to find out that she was privy to it. He would never forgive himself if something were to happen to her.

" _Georg_.." She whispered, stroking the creases from his forehead with her fingertips. His darkened eyes met her softened ones and he knew then that there was nothing she wouldn't do for him. She'd proven herself to be stronger than either of them had thought possible. She'd loved him and believed in him even when he'd been no more than a broken shell of a man. She would walk to the ends of the earth with him if he asked it of her. And she would think no less of him, as long as he was honest with her.

"It's a new model.. " he murmured sombrely as his lips came to rest on her forehead, "the HMS _Sea Devil_." *

Much to his surprise, Maria gave a merciless and rather poorly-timed giggle, causing his eyebrows to fly to his hairline, "what on _earth_ is so amusing at a time like this?" He couldn't quite mask the clipped edge in his tone.

"I'm sorry..It's just.." She stifled another wicked giggle despite the seriousness of the situation, "what a positively _perfect_ name for a model designed by a _rake_ like you," her eyes flashed with mirth, as the title rolled off her tongue salaciously, " _sea devil_.. Did you name it yourself by any chance?"

Her playful teasing, bizarrely juxtaposed with the severity of the conversation they were having, had him feeling suddenly annoyed, amused and a little aroused all at once - and it took him a moment to compose his scrambled thoughts.

"Just when I think I've got you all figured out.." He retorted, baffled, "you come out with the most unexpected things."

She gave a little shrug until the playful smile began to subside and some of the conversation's previous solemnity was restored as he cleared his throat to continue.

" _Sea Devil-_ " he rolled his eyes, "is being designed with thicker hull plating than any other HMS boat, which will increase her diving depth to 350 feet - a huge advantage on the enemy. If all goes to plan, she'll reach a speed of 10 knots underwater and will carry more fuel than any of the German u-boats, with a range of 7,500 nautical miles on the surface at that speed," soon enough it was he who was lightening the somber mood, for he'd begun delving into the inner depths of naval jargon with such an adorably animated excitement that Maria felt an overwhelming swell of affection towards her devoted sea captain. How passionate he was, completely in his element when discussing his one true calling. She could she how at one stage in his life, his only true love had been the sea.

"She's got six 21-inch torpedo tubes in the bow, far more than any predecessor, and she can carry six reloads for a total of a dozen torpedoes! Twelve mines can be carried in lieu of the internally stowed torpedoes and - the little cherry on top - she's equipped with a four inch deck gun. Small but deadly."

Maria raised her eyebrows in mock fascination, as though humouring an excitable young boy who'd been given his first toy boat. In truth she found his blatant enthusiasm entirely adorable.

"In other words," Georg breathed, oblivious to how endearing he was being, "she's a force to be reckoned with."

"She'd have to be, if you're her creator.." Maria smirked.

"It's not just me," he retorted, eyes narrowing, "I'm merely one of many working on this model. I know the German u-boats better than the majority. I'm needed because I know what we're up against."

"You're needed," Maria insisted, cupping his face once more, "because you're dedicated, brilliant, strategic, ruthless, courageous, noble, heroic.." she smiled meaningfully as she leaned toward his lips, "in other words... You're _a force to be reckoned with._ "

She kissed him languidly then, trying to reassure him wordlessly that, despite how hurt she'd been by his dishonesty, she understood his overwhelming sense of duty. His need to do what was right far surpassed a mere obligation, she knew. The navy and the sea were in his very bones, they were his calling, his past and his fate - and now he'd been given the chance to use all of this fierce dedication to potentially bring the Kriegsmarine to justice. If he succeeded, it might even start a domino effect to rid the world of the Third Reich.

She had the utmost respect for his nobility, his intelligence, his courage - more often than not she found herself entirely in awe of him. But oh how she sometimes wished he were an ordinary man, with ordinary fears, ordinary needs, an ordinary life. A life without duties that took him away from his family. But perhaps, if he'd been an ordinary man, she would never have fallen in love with him in the first place.

She was pulled from her reverie when he reluctantly broke their kiss only moments later to ask, "does this mean I have your blessing?"

"My blessing?" She scoffed incredulously, "absolutely not."

His face fell.

"But my support?" She whispered, as his hopeful eyes met hers, _"always_."

* * *

The very first time Georg had left for Hampshire, Maria had been mortified to find herself sobbing in his arms as they said their farewells in the doorway, entirely convinced that he'd never return. It had been his goodbyes to the children however, that had truly set her off. He'd been so loving, so devoted, cradling all nine of them individually as though they were each his very reason for living. Friedrich and Kurt had set their jaws, much like their father, in a display of courage and pride, while the girls had each shed their own amount of silent tears, Lucy and Gretl clutching Leisl's hands for comfort. It was little Thomas however, who clung to Georg with a desperation that left Maria feeling altogether heartbroken.

"Two days, my boy," Georg had murmured into the child's hair, "I'll be back in two days. You won't even notice I'm gone."

They'd told the youngest children very little about his departure, merely that he was going to pay grandpa a visit.

"At the school?" Lucy had asked, understanding very little about the naval training base and its implications.

"Yes darling, at the school," Georg had smiled.

"Are there children like us there?"

"Not quite sweetheart..it's a school for adults," Maria had replied softly, grateful that the questions had ended there when Lucy had given a confused frown and a shrug of her shoulders.

The older children however, knew all too well what it meant and hadn't required any explanation. But they knew better than to ask exactly what business Georg had at the naval base. It didn't matter either way. They understood well enough that it would likely be dangerous.

Georg had been beside himself to see his wife and children so upset and had choked back the lump in his own throat when he pulled Maria close to him, "darling, I'll be perfectly fine," he muttered into her hair, "look after _baby_ won't you," he'd grazed his fingertips against her abdomen then, the gentle swell that had begun to form there not yet visible through her clothes, but clear as day to him in the way her body had begun to change.

He'd felt almost ridiculous getting so emotional over a two day absence but the implications of his trip had been thick and heavy in the room, hanging like a shadow over them in their sudden vulnerability.

But the two days had passed without incident and Georg had returned unscathed, just as he'd promised he would - much to Maria's relief. Three weeks later, he was needed again, this time for four days, but just as before, he had returned unharmed. And so it was, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months - he would leave with heartfelt hugs and whispered promises and he would return each time in one piece, save for a few cuts and bruises where the physical aspects of his work had made their mark.

Maria's bump was larger each and every time he pressed an affectionate palm against it before leaving, and on his return she would sooth his tired body with nimble fingers and loving kisses pressed to his skin. In their most intimate encounters they would treasure each other as if it was their very last, taking their time and loving one another as though they wished to memorise every burning gaze, every heated breath, every gasped profession of adoration.

The Blitz was still raging over London and ports throughout the country were being attacked on a weekly basis. Death and destruction had become a part of everyday life and whenever Georg was away, Maria had taken to listening to the BBC while holding her breath, dread churning in her stomach as she awaited any kind of announcement about the Hampshire training base. There had been one particular occasion, the most terrifying of her entire life, when the presenter had announced that an attack had struck there - and she'd been gripped by an all-consuming, panic-stricken despair, a grief that surpassed all reason, entirely convinced that Georg had been brutally killed and she'd been left a widowed mother to ten children. When all had seemed lost, Margaret had done what was necessary to calm her, sooth her and hold Maria's wracking body in her arms until Georg had finally been able to send word that he was shaken, bloodied, but alive.

He'd returned imminently, battered, bruised, silent, withdrawn - and Maria had clung to him as though the world was ending. But not _once_ , despite her fear, had she asked him to end his affiliation with the navy. She'd stayed true to her word and offered her unwavering support, leaving him feeling entirely overwhelmed by her strength of character.

* * *

"Georg.." Maria rolled over in bed to face her husband, running her fingers through his hair and drinking in the sight of his stoic features. Lines creased his forehead, his eyes were darkened with tiredness and his face was gaunt, but she thought he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen, and she wanted to look upon his face as much as possible now that he'd returned from his most recent trip.

"Hmm..?" Georg mumbled, his eyes half closed as he fought sleep against her loving ministrations.

"How on earth do you do it?" She whispered, her voice strained with emotion.

"Do what darling?" Was the murmured reply as his eyes flew open in concern, snuggling closer bringing a palm to her cheek.

"How do you leave here and go _there_ ," she breathed, "not knowing what to expect, not knowing if you'll be hurt.. Or killed.."

He pondered over her words for a second, wondering himself what it must be like for her to wait at home with bated breath, never really knowing if her husband was alive or dead.

"I suppose," he explained, "I think of _why_ I chose to do this in the first place.. To protect my family.."

She paused for a long while, her eyes downcast as she nodded slowly, as though processing his answer. But then she met his eyes again.

"Don't you ever get scared while you're there.. Or lonely?"

"Of course!" he confirmed, "But I have a good luck charm.. I put it on _Sea Devil_ herself."

"You did?" She frowned in curiosity, "What is it?"

" _M plus G_ ," he whispered with a secretive smile, "I carved it into her bow."

She grinned then, a breathtaking gesture that transformed her whole face and filled him with a joy so intense he felt the breath suddenly knocked out him.

She pressed a gentle kiss to his smiling lips, " _A force to be reckoned with_ indeed."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 ** _*HMS Sea Devil_ was the name of a submarine designed for the Royal Navy, for WW2. I made a few changes to her design details but the facts are mostly historically accurate.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this slightly calmer update! More to come soon**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: I'd like to thank each and every one of you (not for the precious gift you left in my pocket) but for your lovely reviews! I've noticed they've dropped off a bit though, which is absolutely fine as long as you're all still enjoying the story! I promise it is going somewhere, please do let me know if it's losing it's interest a little bit as I welcome all types of feedback. Anyway, enough of my babbling, I hope you like enjoy this next chapter.**

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Christmas had been a wonderful affair, an occasion that gave Maria a glimpse of what life might've been like as Baroness von Trapp if the world had never gone to war. She had no family of her own, Georg's parents had long since passed and the children had always spent the festive season with their grandparents on their mother's side. So Maria had come to the logical conclusion, whenever she'd daydreamed of what could've been, that they would've spent every Christmas with the Whiteheads had peace still existed in Europe.

Georg and Robert had both been granted leave to spend the holiday at home and the children had been over the moon with excitement upon their surprise return on Christmas Eve. Most uncharacteristically, Georg had made their arrival known by bursting through the drawing room door where the family had been sat playing charades, a huge grin plastered on his face and a Santa hat perched crookedly on his head, a jovial 'Ho Ho Ho!' bursting from his lips and an amused Robert shaking his head incredulously behind him.

Her husband's eyes had locked with hers instantly from across the room then - a knowing look, an adoring look that was meant only for her and spoke volumes, causing her pulse to quicken at her throat as it always seemed to in his presence. Even after months of marriage, his smouldering gaze and boyish grin left her burning all over, reminding her all too well of the way he'd looked at her when they'd danced the Ländler.

"Father! Grandpa!" Maria had never seen the children move so fast, but it was little Thomas who managed to scramble up first and launch himself into Georg's open arms. Soon enough her husband had been bombarded by the full gaggle of their brood and amongst the din, Robert had been able to slip past to mutter something in Maria's ear.

"He may or may not have had a little Christmas tipple on the way home.." the Baron had chuckled.

"And why not?!" Georg had cried happily, having overheard him, "though you must know that the sole reason behind my excitement is not the 'tipple' of which Robert speaks, but the presence of nine impossible children on Christmas Eve!" He had teased, causing a giggle to spread around the room.

"Our beautiful children," he'd crooned, suddenly wistful, looking upon the group before cupping Marta's cheek and stroking a hand through Thomas' hair.

Maria's breath had caught at the sight but she had also been confronted with an unpleasant sense of unease when she'd seen the way the little boy stared at Georg with complete adoration, an affection that was reflected in Georg's own eyes. The little boy and the big man.

She'd seen Georg looking at Lucy just as affectionately and while it was a beautiful thing to behold, she was worried about how attached they were all becoming as a family. Lucy and Thomas had parents of their own after all, and Maria had partnered with Margaret in an attempt to track them down and invite them to the festivities, but with no success. London was still in chaos, and the couple were too poor to own a telephone - it had been difficult to determine where they might be and the telegram they'd sent to their last known address had gone unanswered.

And soon enough, when the time came, the von Trapps would be leaving little Lucy and Thomas for America. The thought had left a lump forming in Maria's throat but she'd instantly dismissed it in favour of celebrating her husband's safe return with the children and it hadn't been long before Georg scooped her into his arms and greeted her with a thorough kiss, much to the evident disgust of their young audience.

He'd bought them each a little gift to open on Christmas Day, despite times being so difficult - a quaint English doll each for Gretl, Lucy and Marta, the little cotton companions sewn lovingly together with straggly spaghetti hair and buttons for eyes - not a scratch on the kind of fine china dolls the two von Trapp girls had owned in Aigen, but far more beautiful than anything Lucy had ever been gifted with, Maria was certain. All three pairs of eyes had lit up as though they'd been given the world.

For Brigitta, The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling, in English of course - not that the girl would struggle at all when it came to using her second language. She was so fluent that she'd managed to teach Maria the basics of everyday conversation, enough that she was able to communicate confidently with the Whiteheads as well as Lucy and Thomas, both of whom had taken mischievous delight in trying to trip her up.

During one particular breakfast they'd managed to confuse her so thoroughly about the correct words for 'salt' and 'sugar' that she'd accidentally asked for the wrong one and added three teaspoons of the former to her tea, only to spray the liquid in all directions after the first sip. The culprits had been obvious, given Lucy and Thomas' squeals of merciless laughter - but Maria had been entirely unable to scold them, reminded all too well of the very first time she'd met seven other impossibly mischievous children.

For Louisa, Georg had managed to find an encyclopaedia of creepy crawlies, much to the fiendish delight of the tomboy.

"Strictly for educational purposes only," Georg had smirked across the dinner table, raising a mock disciplinary finger that looked simply ridiculous given his bright red Christmas hat.

"Of course father," Louisa's grave response juxtaposed with the evil gleam in her eye had indicated she was entirely intent on mischief.

Leisl's eyes had welled with tears when she'd been presented with her gift. A stunning dress of pale green that had belonged to her mother, a garment the Whiteheads had kept with them in England since her passing. Georg had been eternally grateful to discover they'd stored not only her jewels and the family's fortune, but smaller, less expensive items that were worth very little in gold but all the world in sentimental value. He'd known instantly he would gift something of Agathe's to her eldest daughter.

"Oh father," the girl had murmured, lost for words.

"She wore that dress the day I met her," Georg had smiled wistfully, "the day she christened my u-boat. She looked like an angel," The whole room had fallen silent then, as though some kind of spell had befallen the table and the children had listened in awe to the tale of their mother and father's meeting, "That very evening I asked permission to court her. Her father was not best pleased," he threw a bashful Robert an amused glance, "but I soon won the family over with my irresistible charm," Margaret had snorted with derision then, much to Georg's chagrin.

"I'm sure, Leisl darling, you'll do the garment equal justice."

Kurt had received an old photo album from the Whitehead's collection, which showed grainy old photographs of Agathe as a girl right the way through to each of the children's births. The boy had shown a keen interest in the family's history ever since they'd arrived in England and he'd asked to hear the story of his mother and the boat. The photo album had thrilled him and before long the children had been huddled around their brother at the table, peering over his shoulder and laughing and chattering away without a care in the world.

For Friedrich, a tie that Georg had managed to buy in town - the garment transforming the blond haired boy into a young man so suddenly that Maria had had to stifle a gasp. He'd puffed his chest and held his shoulders back proudly when wearing it, a spitting image of his brooding darker haired father. _He wants to be a man like you but there's no one to show him how._ Maria remembered the words all too clearly and was overcome with pride that Georg was now doing everything in his power to raise honourable young men.

"What about me?!" Thomas had crowed, jumping down from his chair and stamping a bossy foot, placing his little hands on his hips as the rest of his siblings had stifled a giggle at the sight of him in his green Christmas hat and woolly jumper.

"Are you _sure_ he isn't one of yours from a previous life, Georg?" Max had quipped with a smirk, "I'm absolutely positive I've seen that _exact same_ scowl before.."

" _Max._.." Georg had warned, his eyes narrowing, none too pleased by the impresario's idea of a joke.

"There was that one _other_ English rose... way back in the day.." The impresario had drawled over his scotch, entirely ignoring his friend's death stare, "you remember the one Georg..."

"Well I _never_!" Margaret exclaimed breathlessly, entirely scandalised as she dropped her fork against her plate with a loud clink that seemed to shatter Georg's eardrums.

"Max!"

"A rose?" Maria had asked curiously, unfamiliar with the English term.

"A _rose indeed!"_ Max chirped, as a rosy cheeked Robert guffawed in the background, much to Georg's horror.

"What have _roses_ got to do with Thomas?" Brigitta had asked in innocent confusion, as Friedrich choked uncouthly on his broccoli and a blushing Leisl pounded him on the back, avoiding her father's mortified gaze.

As he'd stuttered desperately for an adequate response he'd noticed dawning apprehension on Maria's face and had been relieved to see that she seemed amused by the brief insight into his rakish youth, rather than displeased. A knowing twinkle had glimmered in her eye and it had given him the means to move past Max's unwelcome revelation and concentrate on the little boy in front of him, the little boy who was still stamping his feet impatiently in an effort to obtain all the attention. Georg could've kissed him for diverting everyone's attention.

"For you, my little man," Georg had chuckled, tapping his saviour on the nose, "something I myself received when I was around your age."

He'd left his seat and sunk to his haunches, presenting Thomas with a humbly wrapped gift that the boy had torn into with greedy abandon. The paper had fallen away to reveal a box containing the pieces of a little model boat and the child's face had furrowed in confusion before understanding dawned and he gave a triumphant roar of excitement.

"Can we build it together?!" He'd cried, flinging his little arms around Georg's neck.

"Of course," Georg had chuckled, "though all of these gifts are from your mother and grandparents too children."

Maria had been bewildered to find that Thomas had run to her then, wrapping her in a hug of her own and whispering under his breath "thank you mother." It had moved her deeply that the boy felt such affection for her, or perhaps he was merely copying the older children, but either way one thing was for certain - his desperate need for parental love in the absence of his own mother and father filled her with overwhelming sadness. She felt guilty for being unable to track their own parents down, guilty for becoming to attached to them. How she would miss the two English rascals when the time came to leave England.

Later that night, when the celebrations had quieted and a peaceful hush had finally befallen the house, Georg had closed their bedroom door behind him and leant against the wood, breathing a contented sigh of relief.

"Alone at last," he grinned playfully, closing the gap between himself and his wife before encasing her in a loving embrace, "I missed you my darling," he whispered vulnerably, nuzzling his face into her neck and peppering languid kisses behind her ear, across her cheek.

She let her eyes flutter closed against his breathtaking ministrations, every touch, every stroke, every whisper, burning her with a love she could hardly contain, "I can scarcely get near you with this big bump in the way," she muttered under her breath, evoking a low chuckle from her husband as he placed a loving hand against her growing stomach.

He pulled back to share a wry smile with her, "it'll get a lot bigger yet!" He said, "how have you been finding it?"

She shrugged, "Margaret has been really helpful, and I've been doing a lot of reading so I know what to expect. It's just a waiting game now really - though Spring seems a long way away yet."

"It will go very fast," he warned, "you'll wonder where the time went!"

She smiled on a sigh, "It does seem like only yesterday you proposed to me in that willow tree," she remembered wistfully, "in Davos."

"How could I forget!" He grinned, "Which reminds me..." He moved away from her to the bedside cabinet and just as she was beginning to mourn the loss of his touch, he pulled out a little wrapped gift that peaked her curiosity, "I haven't yet given you your Christmas present.."

He lifted her hand and pressed her fingertips to his lips before laying her palm flat and placing the little gift there for her to unwrap.

"Oh Georg, I thought we agreed we'd only get gifts for the children!"

"I know but I didn't buy it I promise. I just wanted to give you this especially," He smiled sheepishly, "Go on, open it."

She did as instructed and the paper fell away to reveal a little black velvet jewellery box. Attempting to conceal her childish eagerness, she snapped it open and gave a little gasp of surprise. There in the silken padding of the case, sat a white gold ring encrusted with little diamonds and a rich blue sapphire that adorned the centre of the band, glistening in the light of the bedside lamp so beautifully that she felt utterly entranced by it.

"Do you like it?"

"Georg! It's stunning!" She breathed, "I'm speechless."

"Well there's a first," was the quipped reply, "it was my grandmothers. I kept it in England along with some of the other valuable possessions I wanted to keep out of harm's way. I remember when I proposed to you in that willow tree that I told you I didn't have a ring. Well it wasn't strictly true," he took the box gently from her hand and extracted the ring, taking her fingers with his, "I had this ring in mind ever since I realised... I thought it was perfect for you, even when I had no idea you returned my feelings, I always thought of this ring. But I just couldn't give it to you until now. Please wear it always and know I love you."

She could only nod as he slipped the jewel onto her wedding finger, before bringing her hand to his lips again and holding it against his chest.

"I don't know what to say," she murmured, her chest constricting, "I never thought.. Oh it's silly."

"What?" His forehead furrowed in concern, though his voice was soft, "tell me."

"I never thought I'd ever be deserving of such love, such devotion.. " she trailed off, her eyes downcast, "But you make me feel as though I'm worthy of the _whole world_."

"And don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise!" he replied sternly, pulling her into his arms, "I simply won't have it!"

"Until I met you, I'd barely even been _touched_ affectionately," she half laughed in wonder, "let alone told I was worthy of love.."

She'd meant the recollection to be lighthearted but Georg was overcome with a sudden and striking sadness. _She'd barely been touched before him?_ He knew she'd had a wicked and lonely childhood, he knew she'd never been so much as near a man in adulthood, but to hear so bluntly that she'd been entirely starved of affection her whole life - it left him feeling raw with a sudden, burning need to remedy her loneliness, to protect her from the sadness of her past. How could somebody so neglected, so overlooked, grow to become such a stirring, wonderful, selfless human being? She entirely floored him with her joyful innocence and fierce, tender compassion. She had saved his family when she'd gone her entire life without anyone to save her, and yet not once had she ever succumbed to self-pity. She was a goddess, a blessing, a miracle.

Before long his sadness gave way to overwhelming need, a need to be close to his goddess in a way that only he was permitted.

"I will _gladly_ spend a lifetime making sure you are compensated," he growled wickedly before descending on her neck, her girlish squeals the last coherent sound that was heard before he carried her to the bed and made good on his promise.

* * *

Georg had been right, the proceeding months passed in a blur of bustle and activity. Winter had melted into early spring, both Friedrich and Briggita had celebrated birthdays, Robert and Georg had made several more trips to the base and come home each time, mostly unscathed. The Blitz had continued to rage in the capital, though daily reports on the radio about explosions, devastation, death and destruction had almost become old news.

Maria's stomach had grown so large she felt she might pop like an overinflated balloon, though her heavy pregnancy hadn't yet hindered her desire to be as active as possible. She and the children spent long, golden afternoons in the grounds of the country home when the weather was tranquil, the nine of them watching the lambs dance in the adjoining fields or playing a game while Maria observed from the shade of a nearby tree.

She was sitting under that very same tree now, watching her brood in their latest endeavours as they frolicked in the sun. She'd often wander down to this spot at the crack of dawn for a moment to herself, whenever Georg was absent and sleep evaded her. She'd breathe in the cool morning air and drink in the sight of the dew sparkling against the blades of grass as they were kissed by the sunrise and she'd be filled with a deep sense of calm, as though the house and everyone in it were protected by an impenetrable bubble.

Once or twice she'd thought about carving their initials into the very tree she was currently leaning against, but it hadn't seemed fitting somehow - leaving their mark in a place that belonged to the Whitehead family, a place that their daughter had never lived to see and yet still held her memory like an old photograph - she was there in the way the children's eyes sparkled with laughter, there in her parents wistful smiles, there in the quintessential stillness of the English countryside surrounding them. Amidst the memories shared, the photographs discovered and the stories told about Agathe in the months since they'd arrived in England, Maria felt as though she'd grown to known this woman more than ever before. She couldn't quite explain it to anyone, least of all Georg, but she felt as though she shared a unique bond with the former baroness Von Trapp, a bond whose basis lay in their mutual love for a stubborn sea captain and seven unruly children.

 _"Mother!"_ Louisa whined from across the grass as though on cue, "Friedrich won't give the ball back!"

"You stole it first!" Lucy shouted over the din, coming to Friedrich's aid.

Maria sighed, hauling herself to her feet with a knowing smile on her face, ready to quell the imminent mutiny. But she was abruptly halted in her tracks by the sight of a flustered Baroness Whitehead emerging from the house and rushing across the grass in a flurry of skirts and worry. Maria's heart stopped dead in her chest, the look on Margaret's contorted face leaving her feeling suddenly suspended in time and space. Everything seemed to churn in slow motion then, the world turned on its axis, the children's squabbling became muffled against the blood pounding in her ears, the lambs in the adjacent field seemed to freeze. It seemed to take Margaret an age to finally get to her.

"What is it?" Maria choked as the elderly woman neared. She grabbed at the tree trunk blindly to steady herself against the sudden pounding of her heart.

"Inside.." Margaret murmured, throwing an anguished sideways glance towards the children, who'd dropped their ball to watch the scene with avid curiosity.

Maria nodded wordlessly, attempting to remain passive as she forced one heavy foot in front of the other, her mind racing with a million sickening possibilities all too painful to bear.

Only one thing was certain. Their impenetrable bubble was about to burst.

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 **A/N: the last two chapters have been a little slower paced but I'm thinking it's about time to ramp it up again! hope you're all still with me!**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: I wanted to give you a quick update before I go on a long weekend break, so this chapter is slightly shorter than I intended! Thanks so much for all your kind words, so glad to know you're all still enjoying the story!**

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Maria felt like her entire body was made of lead as she dragged her shaking frame up the steps towards the house, the large exterior of the building suddenly appearing intimidating and vulgar in the way it loomed over them, as though it held the secret to whatever horror she was about to discover. A worry stricken Margaret had her eyes fixed to the house in her determination to get Maria to a secure location, clutching at the crook of her elbow with a fragile hand - though it wasn't clear who was supporting who as they leaned on each other, edging their way into the hallway.

Maria wanted to chance a glance over her shoulder to see how the children were reacting to the sudden and strange alteration in circumstances, but she kept her head rooted firmly forward, unable to bear the innocent curiosity she might find in their eyes as they watched their mother and grandmother retreat.

As though in slow motion, her heart in her mouth, Maria finally found herself in the study as Margaret closed the door hurriedly and lowered her onto the sofa - the very same sofa on which she'd lain with Georg after their passionate encounter all those months ago. The vivid memory of skin on skin, of anger and fire and passion, kickstarted her heart again - only this time it didn't thunder with anticipation but with unrelenting panic.

 _Georg._ He was dead. She was sure of it. He'd orphaned seven children and robbed an unborn baby of a father, leaving a pregnant wife to spiral into unimaginable despair. Is this what he'd felt in the moments before the doctors had informed him of Agathe's passing all those years ago? She wondered. Had he too felt as though he were about to be consumed by an abyss of unbearable grief? He'd known more than anyone what loss could do to a person and yet he'd put himself at risk anyway, placing his family in the firing line of the kind of loss that had almost ruined him.

As quickly as the panic had begun to unfurl in her stomach, a rage like no other suddenly engulfed her previous turmoil, consuming her whole and enveloping her like a suffocating smog. She wanted to pummel her fists against Georg's chest, push and pull at him and scream until he understood the grief he'd caused her. But of course she'd never be able to touch him again - she'd never be able to shout at him, or grab him, or kiss him, or hold him, or see the many expressions his handsome face was capable of - the stoic authoritarian, the playful rogue, the doting father, she'd never-

"I couldn't risk telling you in front of the children," Margaret's softened voice jolted Maria back into the room and her head jerked up to observe the elderly woman where she sat, slumped in an armchair beside the desk. She looked even older than her years, her face pale and waxy, and her eyes pierced Maria's with an unspoken anguish as she opened her mouth to speak. But Maria suddenly found her voice and interrupted before the words could leave the Baroness' lips.

"How did it happen..." she whispered, her eyes downcast and her jaw set rigidly in an effort to remain strong.

Margaret sighed and the silence that followed seemed to stretch on for an age before she finally said on a murmur, "an explosion.. of some kind. A shell..? I'm not sure. But I got the phone call half an hour ago. They're gone."

And there it was. That all-consuming, black despair that began to cloak Maria like a disease. It seeped into her very bones and left her limbs feeling heavy, her lungs suddenly robbed of the air she needed in her desperation to survive, her heart feeling as though it had been ripped from her rib cage and hurtled against a brick wall. How would she ever survive? She'd not even had the luxury of a year with her love before he'd been cruelly taken from her. Did God have no mercy? Their family had surely suffered enough!

"I'm not sure what to do.." Margaret whispered into the air thick with depression around them, her brow creased with worry - though she remained eerily numb, devoid of emotion. Maria realised with shame that she'd entirely overlooked the fact that the elderly woman had lost a husband too. Was this unsettling calmness Margaret's way of handling her own grief?

"Oh _Margaret_ , I'm so sorry," Maria sobbed for the both of them, clutching at her heart where it ached in her chest. She found she wanted to say a million things at once, only to discover that no words would do the pain any justice. Instead, speech entirely evaded her and wracking tears of hopelessness took their place.

"Yes well.." Margaret replied a little stiffly, though Maria missed the flash of puzzlement in the elderly woman's eyes, "I never really met them.. it's just-"

" _What_?" Maria's head jerked up, her tear-stained face suddenly contorted in confusion.

"Lucy and Thomas' parents," the baroness replied matter of factly, "I never really met them. Though I don't know how on earth I'm going to break the news to the little darlings. Orphaned at such a young age.. it really is awfully tragic. It was a shell or bomb of some sort in the Blitz. I don't know what I'm going to do with-"

But the baroness was unable to finish her monologue for she was immediately cut short by a sudden and heart wrenching sound, a strangled cry of despair and relief that suddenly burst from Maria's lungs as the girl crumpled to the floor like fragile tissue paper before her.

"Maria!" Margaret was by her side in a flash, hauling the young woman into a safe position on the sofa while she gasped in lungfuls of air, tears streaming down her face in her relief.

"What on _earth_!" Margaret cried in concern, "Maria, what's the matter? Is it the baby?!"

"I thought.." Maria heaved through her sobs, clutching at the baroness in her desperation, "I thought..." but she couldn't possibly verbalise what she'd thought, for the realisation that her assumptions had been wrong left her feeling such overwhelming relief that it was almost too much to bear. The elation was short lived however, for it was met moments later with an emotion far more painful: guilt. Guilt that she could feel such relief in the knowledge that her husband was safe, while two little children had been left orphaned. She felt sick with dread, grieving on behalf of the two little evacuees who had unknowingly found a home in the deepest recesses of her heart. How they would suffer the loss of their parents, just as she had when she'd lost her own family, just as the Von Trapp brood had when they'd lost their mother. Lucy and Thomas had no home, no other family - a fact she'd learned after the two children had asked Max what an uncle was. _The poor darlings._

"Maria?" Margaret pressed, her voice filled with worry, "are you alright?"

"I...," Maria took a deep breath, "I thought you were talking about _Robert and Georg_.."

"Good _heaven's_ no!" Margaret cried, a hand flying to her forehead, "my God, I don't know what I'd _do_ if my Robert..." she trailed off, "no darling, they're safe and well as far as I know. Now just take a minute to calm down."

Despite her anguish for the children, Maria allowed herself a few seconds of elation as she regained her composure. Georg was _safe and well._ He was alive. _Thank God in heaven._

Long minutes passed in tense silence before she was finally able to muster the strength to speak again.

"I'll tell the children," she whispered, staring into the empty fireplace across the room, her expression hollow and vacant, "I'll send Georg a telegram and ask that he come home. Thomas will need him. Lucy too."

The baroness nodded wordlessly, taking hold of Maria's white-knuckled hand.

"They have no family," Margaret noted with regret, her eyes glazing with compassionate tears, "so _young_.."

"They have a home herethough," was Maria's resolute reply, "surely-"

"Maria.." Margaret sighed, shaking her head in defeat, "we.. Robert and I.. we can't raise two little children. We're getting old, frail. If we were to pass while they were still young.. what then? And England is such a volatile place, God only knows for how much longer. I fear we wouldn't be able to give them what they need."

"But you've taken them in for all this time," Maria implored, turning to face the baroness in her determination, her eyes riddled with turmoil, " _surely_ you know you're capable-"

"We took them in temporarily in light of the government's evacuation scheme and because we wanted to do out part in helping to protect London's children from these unspeakable horrors," Margaret explained, "but it was only ever meant to be _temporary_ , Maria. Whether it was going to be for a few months or a few years, I wasn't sure. But darling, I'm 75 and Robert.. he's nearly 80. We aren't as young as we used to be. We can't raise two children... We're unlikely to even _be here_ in a few years.."

The meaning of Margaret's words were not lost on Maria and it made her heart suddenly ache. Realising the truth behind the regretful words, her eyes fell to the fireplace again in helplessness. When she'd been a lonely orphan herself, she'd wanted nothing more than for someone to fight for her, to fight for her well-being, to fight against her sadness and her fear, to care enough just to keep her safe. What did these two little children have left? Apart from a broken homeland and each other?

She knew the answer to her own question before she'd even finished asking it. _Little Lucy and Thomas had a family in the Von Trapps._

"We'll take them with us.." Maria murmured determinedly, as if to no one in particular, her voice so quiet that the baroness had to strain towards the girl to make sure she'd heard her right.

"We'll take them with us. To America."

* * *

Two days had passed since Maria had heard the awful news and she'd sent word to Georg via telegram mere hours afterward. She had tried to call him as well, but to no avail and she had yet to hear back from him.

By the fourth day, she was beginning to lose her patience. Lucy and Thomas were still oblivious to their loss - since Maria wanted to wait until Georg was present to break the news. But she didn't know how much longer she could bear to see the children's sweet little faces while carrying such a burden.

The whole brood were beginning to notice that Maria was troubled, that she was somewhat subdued - and they'd begun asking worrisome questions about the baby, concerned that something might be wrong. When she and Georg had shared the news that they were expecting a baby, the children had been overjoyed with excitement at the thought of a new sibling - particularly Thomas, who'd been positively triumphant that he would no longer be the youngest. Maria hadn't had the heart to tell him however, that he most likely wouldn't know the baby for very long at all before they left for America.

Now, everything was different. If Maria had anything to say about it, Lucy and Thomas would be coming with them. But with Georg apparently too busy at the base to acknowledge the family's need for him, Maria was at a loss for what to do next.

By the fifth day, she'd decided enough was enough and she'd worked herself up into a silent rage that simply couldn't be extinguished. Persuading Margaret to take the children for a stroll about the grounds after lunch, Maria managed to waddle her way to the drawing room with determined conviction, finding exactly what - or rather who - she was looking for.

Just as she'd suspected, Max was perched lazily on a chair beside the window, watching the children playing in the grounds while he was doing exactly what he did best: nursing a rather large glass of wine.

"Ah, hello Maria dear.." Max greeted her somewhat wearily as she staggered into the room, his eyes narrowing in slight suspicion, "I must say I'm _overjoyed_ that you never obtained the key to the wine cellar by the way, I'm not sure what I would've-"

"This is what's going to happen," Maria stated matter of factly, her nostrils flaring and her enormous stomach heaving so aggressively that Max couldn't help but liken her suddenly to a stampeding rhinoceros.

He gulped. This could only mean bad news.

"You're going to drive me to the base in Hampshire," she commanded sharply, holding her head high despite her rather undignified size, "I'm too.. uh.. _big._. to drive myself."

She could've sworn she heard a derisive snort from the impresario then, but her eyes flashed with such fury that he fell immediately silent and took a rather large gulp of his wine.

"You're going to drive me there," she continued determinedly, "and then you're going to drive us both back."

"By _us_.. I assume you mean you and Georg?" Max enquired incredulously as she nodded the affirmative.

"And why on _earth_ would I do that?" he implored, rolling his eyes lazily, "apart from the fact that you'll _lock the wine cellar so fast I'll forget what merlot even looks like_.." he hadn't forgotten her last heartless threat when she'd wanted something from him.

Maria waddled closer and attempted to encircle him like a prowling panther once again, but the intimidating effect was lost to her swollen stomach - making her appear more like a bumbling hippo than an assured commander. Max had to stifle a laugh so as not to hurt the girl's feelings - feelings that were no doubt addled by raging hormones and unrelenting discomfort in that gigantic belly of hers. She looked utterly ridiculous, _bless her._

"I don't have time to waste filling you in on the finer details Max," Maria drawled with an authority she didn't quite feel, attempting to imitate the way in which she'd seen her husband exert his command effortlessly over those around him, "it's incredibly important and I demand that you drive me immediately."

"And if I don't?" Max smirked, rather enjoying her futile attempts to appear menacing. The contrast between her vulnerability with her heavy pregnancy, and her failed intimidation tactics were almost endearing - he was rather curious to see what she had up her sleeve next, the tempestuous little Fraulein they all knew so well.

"What are you going to do if I refuse?" He teased wickedly, " _sit on me_?"

He'd expected to lather her up into an amusing rage for sheer entertainment but, much to dismay, her bottom lip began to tremble and the resolute expression on her face began to crumble as tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh Christ," Max cursed, as he leapt to his feet, "Maria I'm so sorry, I was only teasing," he insisted, attempting to ease her into a chair without getting her wedged there, "you're.. you're positively _glowing_!"

"Oh _shut up_ Max, I'm _huge_!" She wailed, "I can't even tie my own shoelaces!"

"Come now," Max swallowed hard, entirely out of his depth, "you'll shrink right back down after the baby comes-"

"I'm an absolute _whale_!" She cried, "I can't even fit behind a steering wheel for heaven's sake! I need to see Georg, it's so _terribly important_ but I'm simply too fat to-"

"Alright!" The impresario relented in desperation, tugging at his moustache in his agitation and hovering around her like a pestering fly, "alright, _God help me_ , I'll drive you!"

"You will?" Maria's glistening eyes shone with gratitude.

He sighed in defeat and nodded regretfully, knowing all too well that he was playing with fire. Mentally he kicked himself for being so soft at heart - he would undoubtedly have to endure a storm of fury from his friend for bringing his heavily pregnant wife to a naval base, of all places! It was entirely _ludicrous_. But Max Detweiller had discovered long ago that he'd do anything to avoid the emotional breakdown of a tormented woman - let alone a heavily pregnant one!

Hurrying from the room like a loyal dog to retrieve his coat, hat and the keys to the remaining car, Max entirely missed the mischievous smirk of triumph that had suddenly broken across the tempestuous little Fraulein's face.

* * *

 **A/N: poor Max, he's turning into a bit of a puppet when it comes to Maria! Georg doesn't know what's about to hit him! I hope you all enjoyed it - I felt I rushed this chapter somewhat so I could give you a quick update. I wrote it in a few hours so I hope I've still done it justice. Next update soon**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: this is another relatively short chapter because I need to do the next part justice and so it didn't seem right to cram everything into one update. I hope you enjoy it! please do review if you have a spare minute, they keep me going!**

* * *

"I can't quite believe I agreed to this," Max muttered under his breath as he struggled to wedge his best friend's enormous wife into the passenger side of Robert's Mercedes. He inwardly cursed the elderly baron and his son in law for going to the base in the same car, for if the two men had travelled separately there would've been no means of transport left for Maria to mutinously commandeer.

As he reflected on their previous exchange, the impresario couldn't help but feel as though he'd been somewhat duped by the young woman. The previous distress written on her face that had led him to acquiesce to her request had been miraculously replaced by a bossy, almost aggressive determination now that she'd gotten her own way. Gone was the vulnerable girl and in her place sat a fiery duplicate that he was no more accustomed to dealing with. She was a perfect reminder of the reason as to why he'd stayed unattached for the majority of his adult life. He simply couldn't fathom how any man, whether simple and humble in nature, or fierce and proud in countenance, could ever keep up with the emotional demands of the fairer sex. Maria's behaviour had him absolutely baffled - sweet and demour one minute, then a fiery tornado of activity the next - though he and others around him had put her uncharacteristic impatience down to the hormones of late. He hoped to God it was merely a passing phase, for Georg's sake if anything else.

"Hurry," his passenger demanded as if on cue, struggling with the effort of bending into a sitting position with the added strain of her swollen stomach weighing her down, "we need to get a move on before Margaret notices we're gone!"

"Because she'll do the _sensible_ thing-" Max huffed for breath under Maria's alarming weight, resisting the urge to use his foot as leverage to force her large frame further into the car, "-and try and put a stop to this madness?"

Maria chose to ignore him however and merely stuck her chin out resolutely, looking entirely too authoritative for Max's liking, "quickly now," she snapped, "if we move fast enough we'll be back before they know it."

"I hardly think it's _me_ who's slowing us down," the impresario grumbled intelligibly, her eyes falling to her swollen stomach.

"What was that?" Maria's eyes narrowed into slits, a look that could kill a man at ten paces.

" _Nothing,_ nothing.." Max added hastily, and then much more loudly "are you _sure_ this is a good idea?"

He'd hoped that by raising his voice he would somehow alert Margaret and the children to their mutinous escape. With any luck, the ten of them would still be walking about the grounds close by and would hear his desperate cry for help. No doubt he would get a terrible scolding from the baroness for even _considering_ driving a heavily pregnant woman halfway across the south of England, but the elderly lady's scorn would likely be far less terrifying than Georg's. _Yes_ , Max thought, Margaret was his last hope for getting out of this mess and saving his own skin. She had the hearing of a hunting dog despite her age, and would surely be alerted to his subtle message if he called loud enough.

But before he'd had a chance to scour the surroundings and determine whether anyone was coming to his rescue, he felt Maria's fist wrap firmly around his tie and, with a strangled cry, he was jerked abruptly down to her eye level.

Confronted with the most terrifying glare he'd ever experienced from a woman so seemingly sweet, Max gave a minuscule whimper, entirely at her mercy as she clutched at his tie with alarming strength and glowered at him from over her fist.

" _Get in_ ," she growled, her eyes burning with resolution before she finally released him. Moving like a bat out of hell, the impresario almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to the driver's seat, noting that a pregnant and hormonal Maria was far more terrifying than Georg, Margaret, and even the most stern admirals he'd had the displeasure of meeting in the navy put together. _The sooner the baby was born,_ he thought, _the better!_

* * *

As the car ambled leisurely through the countryside, Max was almost able to forget the purpose behind their impromptu journey. The spring sun was shining down upon them, a gentle breeze was dancing through the surrounding countryside and they'd hardly encountered another soul during the long hours they'd been on the road. It almost felt as though they were going on a little trip, a luxurious adventure whose destination was anywhere but a dangerous and volatile naval base in which a raging sea captain would no doubt have Max's head on a silver platter. He and Maria hadn't spoken much since their departure from Northampton and Max had been somewhat glad for it, given the young woman's unpredictable countenance of late, but now that the waters seemed to have calmed, he found his curiosity was getting the best of him.

"So what is so urgent it couldn't possibly wait?" He broke the silence, throwing his passenger a curious sideways glance, "Georg really won't be pleased," he warned, "in fact I wager he'll be absolutely furious."

"No doubt," Maria replied coolly, "but the real question is..." she met his gaze with a wicked grin, "will his fury be aimed at me, or _you_?"

Max snorted in defeat, "I think we both know the answer to that question."

Maria gave a satisfied nod, still grinning devilishly, and Max visibly relaxed in the knowledge that she was at least in better spirits than when they'd left. He wasn't sure he could bear another minute of her previous tyranny.

"You know.. We could've done with a few women like you in the navy," he chuckled, recalling just how easily she'd used strategy against him to obtain exactly what she wanted.

"Do you not think having a woman on board would be somewhat.. distracting?" Maria smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't mean it like that!" The impresario protested with a grin, "I just mean it would've been rather amusing to watch you put arrogant sea captains in their place with that tenacity of yours," he chuckled boyishly, "I'm not sure Georg ever knew what hit him when you came along and defied every rule he'd ever implemented."

Maria smiled at the memory of her very first meeting with her stoic sea captain. How disagreeable he'd been, all whistles and orders and brisk retorts. He hadn't been at all what she'd expected, especially when the hardened exterior had softened to reveal a beautifully complex and fascinating man. Who'd have thought there was such a playful, mischievous and fiercely passionate soul hidden underneath that scowl.

"What was he like?" She asked suddenly, her eyes alight with curiosity, "as a captain?"

"Exactly as you'd expect," Max shrugged, and then after pondering for a few moments, "brilliant, strategic, ruthless, cunning, brave. He earned respect wherever he went and he never lost a battle. Though he was heartbroken when we lost the war, and the navy along with it. He resented it, he was bitter that we'd fought so hard for nothing."

He gave a wistful smile then, as though recalling his own memories.

"He'd have made Admiral by now if things had turned out differently. And quite simply, he just missed the sea," Max continued, "Agathe snapped him out of it whenever he wallowed in self pity. She even bought him a sailing boat despite Salzburg being so far from the water," he gave a wry chuckle before his face turned grave, "But then, well.. you know..." he trailed off, the meaning behind his silence all too clear, "I don't know what he did with the boat after that."

A long silence hung between them then, each of them lost to their own thoughts before Maria eventually broke the comfortable quiet.

"Well it certainly sounds as though you had quite a few adventures along the way," she grinned, watching the impresario's eyes suddenly glimmer with mischief.

"My lips are sealed Fraulein!" He quipped, sending her a playful smirk that entirely suggested otherwise.

"Oh but surely the gossip is simply too _delicious_ to ignore Max!" She fixed him with her most salacious grin, and that's all it took for the impresario to acquiesce, for when it came to getting gossip out of Max Detweiler, there was no need for Maria to employ any kind of strategy whatsoever.

Before long, the two of them were howling with laughter as he regaled her with tales of his seafaring adventures, of Georg's foibles as a young sailor, of his own inability to adopt any sense of discipline, of exotic countries and bizarre acquaintances. She would go quiet with melancholy over a particularly sad story of loss, or gasp in surprise at an unimaginable turn of events. And so it was, for the better part of two more hours. The time seemed to fly by until they were darting through the dense Hampshire countryside, moving closer and closer to their destination, though both parties were too enraptured by their animated conversation to notice.

"And that's where we met a lovely group of native _dancers_ ," Max chuckled, cocking an eyebrow and babbling happily as he recalled a humorous memory, one hand gripping leisurely at the steering wheel, "we didn't have the foggiest idea which language they were speaking.."

But Maria had stopped listening to his animated monologue and had instead become entirely distracted by a peculiar sensation of warmth flooding the material of her skirts where she sat. It was the most bizarre feeling... almost as though she'd suddenly sat in a lukewarm puddle. Her brow creased in puzzlement as she looked down at herself and discovered, with abject horror, that her dress was entirely soaked through. It was almost as if... surely the baby hadn't kicked her bladder without her realising it?! She'd had a few close calls throughout her pregnancy when nature had called unexpectedly, especially as the baby had grown bigger, but she'd always managed to make it to the bathroom with her dignity intact. Had she just gone and relieved herself right there on the plush leather passenger seat of Robert Whitehead's car?! The thought left her absolutely mortified.

Her travel companion was still chattering away incessantly, entirely oblivious to his passenger's distress, though he might as well have been speaking Spanish for all Maria knew or cared. How was she going to explain to him that she'd involuntarily wet herself in the front seat of Robert's Mercedes?! She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so embarrassed!

And then, all of a sudden, as though she were struck by a bolt of lightning, reality hit her like a brick to the face. Her heart all but stopped and the world shifted on its axis, her lungs feeling as though they were being filled with lead. Margaret had warned her about this.. about what was to be expected when you were so close to _expecting_. And suddenly she knew.. it was clear as day as her mind reeled with the realisation... she hadn't wet herself at all..

" _Oh my goodness_!" She cried, her hands flying to her stomach.

"I know!" Max chortled, "the native dancers never _did_ give Georg his hat back!"

"No, not that you _fool!_ " Maria screeched, "my waters just broke!"

" _What_?!" Max shouted, whirling to face her with a look as though she'd just declared alcohol prohibition across Europe.

"The baby is coming!" Maria shrieked again, panic erupting in her chest as her heart hammered against her rib cage.

"I don't understand!" Was the spluttered response.

"What is there to misunderstand?!" She admonished, becoming shriller by the second, "The baby is going to _come out_!"

"Well for God's sake, _hold it in_!" Max cried, entirely panic stricken as his eyes darted from the road, to Maria, back to the road again, gripping the wheel so hard that it looked as though it might pop right off the dashboard.

"And how do you propose I do that?!" Maria replied, absolutely incredulous. If she was about to be forced to have Max Detweiler as a birthing partner, God had another thing coming.

"I have no idea!" Max stammered, " _deep breathe_?!"

Maria opened her mouth to tell him exactly how appalling his advice was but the words died on her lips, replaced instead by a roar of pain as her first contraction shot through her body. She looked to Max mid-scream for some kind of reassurance, only to realise that the impresario was screaming just as loudly himself, his face contorted in abject fear. The pain eventually ebbed away, as did Maria's cries, but Max's deep bellied roar of panic still echoed around them as the car hurtled down the country lanes.

"Max just calm down!" Maria shouted over the din, holding her stomach with one hand and the side of the car with the other as the impresario abruptly fell silent, "just _breathe!_ "

Gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, Max began deep breathing on Maria's count, " _in two three, out two three_.." in an attempt to calm his unwavering hysteria. How utterly ridiculous they must've looked, Maria thought fleetingly, a heavily pregnant woman in labour encouraging a screaming moustachioed gentleman to inhale through his panic attack while they darted through the relentless Hampshire countryside in a bottle green Mercedes convertible. The entire scene was beyond _ludicrous._

"What _the hell_ do we do now?!" Max cried, having regained the ability to speak, "tell me what I should do!" But before Maria had a chance to respond, another contraction rippled through her body and she doubled over groaning in pain again - a deep, hoarse, lengthy groan that bore an uncanny resemblance, Max thought, to a braying ox. Releasing a curse word into the air above, he inwardly kicked himself for having wished the baby would arrive sooner rather than later, for he certainly hadn't meant _so_ soon that he would have to deliver it right here in the passenger seat!

" _Fraulein_! Are you alright?!"

Another defeated moan.

"Just hold tight, we're nearly at the base!" He spluttered, putting his foot to the ground in his desperation, "just.. just tell the baby to _wait!_ "

Another intelligible groan.

"Sorry?! I can't understand you!" Max panicked, "tell me what you need!"

"I _said_.." she rasped through a grimace, "you are an _imbecile_.."

Even in his limited knowledge about the miracle of birth, Max knew his advice was probably the most ridiculous imaginable. The baby was coming now whether he liked it or not. But with any luck, they'd make it to the base in time and Georg would surely have a better understanding of how to handle the emergency situation? He'd done this seven times before for Christ sake!

But Max gulped with dread as it dawned on him that Georg had been away at sea during _all seven_ of his children's births. And he wondered - as he threw a worrisome glance Maria's way to discover her keeling over in pain and shooting daggers at him as though he alone was responsible for her discomfort - whether they'd make it in time for his friend to witness the eighth.

* * *

 **A/N: I originally thought about having Maria's waters break at the base itself, but having it happen with only Max to deal with the imminent panic seemed far too fun to ignore! I'm not too familiar with what it feels like to go into labour so apologies if I haven't done it justice! I hope you enjoyed the update, let's hope they make it to the base in time for an unsuspecting Georg to lend a hand!**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: sorry for the slightly longer wait on this chapter, I wanted to do it justice! Please do review, as always I love to hear your thoughts**.

* * *

Georg was tired and grimy, his forearms smothered with oil and his overalls patched with sweat belonging not only to him but the members of his team who'd adorned the very same overalls before him. There wasn't much room for being precious about hygiene in this place and his disheveled appearance was only the latest evidence of his manual contribution to preparing Sea Devil for battle.

He'd never been an engineer during his naval career but he knew his way around a u-boat and he'd never considered himself to be above manual labour, even when he'd been made Captain. In the Navy there was no such thing as social class, no top hats and tails to separate the rich from the poor, no superiority based on birth - your family name meant nothing. The only thing that mattered was teamwork, comradeship and a fiercely patriotic heart - and when their lives had been in danger, when their u-boat had been torn apart by torpedoes, he'd been right there with his men, fighting for survival and bearing the scars of their success.

He'd befriended men from all walks of life during his naval days, many of whom had passed away before his very eyes, engulfed in flames or lost to the murky depths of the sea they so loved, and he'd mourned every single one of their losses just as intensely. It was this blurring of social lines, this feeling of brotherhood in the face of danger, that made him feel freer than he'd ever felt before when he'd set sail on his first ever journey out of port. And he felt it just as fiercely now, down on his knees in the dirt with a wrench in his hand, his M+G carving never too far from his sight, reminding him everyday why he was doing this.

She was shaping up nicely, HMS Sea Devil - it wouldn't be long before she'd be ready for christening. As he made his way back to the quarters he and Robert were sharing, shrugging off the filthy overalls and running a hand through his disheveled hair, Georg found his mind wandering back to the day he'd met Agathe, when she'd christened her father's u-boat by smashing a champagne bottle against it. How beautiful she'd been, in that dress he'd recently gifted Leisl for Christmas - he'd been entirely blown away by her the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

He remembered, with a bashful half smile to himself, that he'd made plans that very night to meet up with a widow he'd met at a bar some two week prior, who he'd been bedding ever since. He'd found the naval ceremonies rather boring as a restless, arrogant young man and he'd been looking forward to finally breaking away from the celebrations and enjoying a night of debauchery instead. Sex had been hard to come by when he'd been a young sailor cooped up for weeks on end in a metal cocoon, and the widow had understood the drill well enough - it was meaningless, easy and mutual.

But any thoughts of the experienced widow had instantly left his mind the very moment he'd met Agathe Whitehead and he'd ungraciously stood the older woman up that night in favour of staying at the post-ceremony ball and getting to know the mysterious English rose. In fact, thoughts of _all_ other woman seemed to leave his head entirely that day. Suddenly, there'd been only one woman he wanted and he'd done all he could to get her from that moment forward. And just like that, his life had changed for the better. _He_ had changed for the better.

His half smile turned into a full grin that broke across his features then, the memories filling him with a fond happiness that, not long ago, he thought he'd never feel again when thinking of Agathe. And the fact that he could look back so fondly without the familiar pain in his heart - it was all down to _another_ young woman who'd changed his life for the better some twenty years later.

How different Maria was to Agathe - she was a whirlwind, entirely unpredictable, unflappable, headstrong - whereas Agathe had been delicate, shy, deeply pensive - and yet he loved his second wife just as fiercely as he'd ever loved his first - a love he would've thought impossible to feel twice in one lifetime.

The greatest comfort of all however, was the knowledge that his love for the first woman had in no way impacted upon his love for the second, and vice versa. It was as though the two loves of his life adopted entirely separate dimensions of his heart, two entirely different chapters of his life that felt a world apart from one another. Two decades stood between his meeting Agathe and his meeting Maria - two decades, seven children, a lost Navy and two world wars. He was no longer the same man he'd been when he met Agathe and her memory lived on in the deepest recesses of the heart belonging to the youthful man he'd once been.

Maria - well, Maria had been his saviour in every sense of the word. He'd once attributed the title to Elsa Shraeder but it wasn't until an uncontrollable postulant from Nonnberg Abbey had torn into his regimented, soulless life that he'd finally realised what being rescued truly meant. And he'd been entirely bawled over to discover that it was a mere slip of a girl in her mid twenties, dressed in hideous attire with a bizarre haircut, who'd had the power to turn his life around for the second time.

He missed her terribly, though he'd only been gone a few days - but he found that he always missed her when he went away, as though he'd been absent for weeks or months rather than a couple of nights. He missed her infectious smile and her sharp-witted tongue, her mischievous eyes that danced when they shared a secret, her golden hair, her silken skin under his fingertips..

He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath as he sunk onto the edge of his bunk, gritting his teeth slightly against the unexpected arousal that his thoughts suddenly evoked. It was just that her skin was just so _soft_.. how he'd longed to reach out and touch her during that first summer in Aigen, driven to desperate dreams and forbidden thoughts about his wayward governess- dreams that had left him gasping and ragged and twisted in the sheets with his hand dangerously close to his length. And the fantasy had paled in comparison to reality, when he'd finally discovered what her satin thighs felt like wrapped around his waist, what her breasts tasted like as her nipples pebbled under his tongue, how her blue eyes blackened as he finally sunk into her body..

Georg gave a growl of frustration as he realised he'd allowed his thoughts to wander so far into dangerous territory that his body had responded accordingly. It was tempting of course, to take matters into his own hands and relieve the frustration, to let his mind wander further and lose himself for a few blissful minutes in racy memories of moans and tongues and sweat and heat. The truth was, he found his mind wandering in such directions often when he was cooped up at the base, tired and fed up, missing his wife - and given her heavy pregnancy of late, they hadn't had the chance to be intimate quite as often as they would've liked.

 _Yes,_ Georg thought as he made his way to the nearby sink to cool himself down, he missed his wife terribly.

Willing his body's excitement to subside, he glanced at the grimy clock that hung on the wall. It was ten after five - too late to start another manual task and too early to wind down for the evening lest his thoughts got the better of him again. Instead, he made the decision to go and find Robert, who would no doubt be in the office down the corridor looking over the latest blue prints. And if his memory served him correctly, Robert had a rather cheap but passable bottle of sherry stashed away that he'd confiscated from some of the naval cadets. It might be just the distraction he needed.

* * *

"I've been staring at these for the better part of an hour," Robert huffed indignantly, gesturing to the papers littering the office desk as Georg took a seat, "and I may as well be staring at hieroglyphics. I'm just too tired.." the baron sighed, "or _too old!"_

Georg chuckled, "it's been a long day," he soothed, "why not call it a night and we'll make a start on that hideous sherry you've got stowed somewhere... oh don't look at me like that, I know full well you didn't throw it away!"

Robert gave a wry smile before hesitating, his eyes falling on the papers again, "I really should take a longer look at-"

"Those papers will still be here tomorrow," Georg reassured, his uncharacteristic flippancy reminding him disturbingly of Max, "if it makes you feel better, we'll leave them out, take a small break over a drink and take another look with fresh eyes."

It didn't take much more persuading before Robert finally acquiesced, tugging a bottle of hideously dark liquid from the bottom drawer of the desk and uncorking it with a flinch of disapproval. Not twenty minutes had passed however, before half the bottle had been consumed between them and talk of Sea Devil had turned to talk of devils at sea.

"And that's when I found Max.." Georg paused for breath, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, "passed out on top of a barrel of fish, wearing a dress and a bright pink feather hat!"

The baron joined his son in law in a roar of laughter then, sloshing his sherry everywhere in the process. But their jovial exchange was short lived, for the sound of thundering footsteps barrelling down the corridor suddenly rendered both men speechless, frozen to their seats alert and ready. The sound seemed to go on forever before a young cadet finally hurled himself through the office door in a whirlwind of breathlessness and urgency.

Robert and Georg launched to their feet simultaneously, the former making quick work of hiding the sherry as though _they_ were the young cadets who'd just been caught out by the admiral.

"This better be important boy!" Robert bellowed, brandishing his sherry glass aggressively before he realised his error and hurriedly hid it behind his back, "I wouldn't like to assume you have the audacity to burst in here unannounced if it wasn't a matter of urgency!"

The young boy's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath and get his words out, "A... Detweiler... here..Captain.. _wife_.."

Georg launched closer and grabbed the boy by his shoulders to steady him, "what about my wife?! Out with it!"

"Your _wife_.." the boy rasped, and he pointed down the corridor as if no further explanation was required. Entirely perplexed, Georg followed the boy's finger until his eyes fell on the most chaotic scene he'd ever laid eyes on in his life. Blinking several times, he wondered what the hell had been in that sherry.

There, stumbling down the corridor in a dramatic display of limbs as though they were in some kind of ridiculous pantomime, was a sweaty, pale-faced Max with five other cadets - and there amongst the tangle of their arms, was a gigantic Maria, roaring in agony as her six supporters heaved her towards him like some kind of hippo they'd captured for experimentation.

"Good _god_!" Robert muttered from somewhere behind Georg's shoulder, although he may as well have been speaking Russian for all Georg heard. He was entirely rooted to the spot, frozen into place from the shock of the mayhem before him.

"Georg!" Max bellowed, having spotted him from afar, "a little help!"

It was another roar of pain from Maria that finally kickstarted Georg into action. Shoving past the speechless cadet who stood dumbstruck in the doorway, he ran to meet the cacophony of noise and turmoil that was erupting before his very eyes.

"What the hell is going on Max!" He cried, shoving a relieved cadet aside and taking his place in supporting his wife's weight, panic contorting his face, "Maria, my darling!"

A low groan of pain.

"She's..," Max heaved another breath under the strain of their load, "in.. labour!...baby.. coming!"

"What?!" Georg roared, halting dead in his tracks and almost dropping Maria as the blood drained from his face. Max could only groan in response under the added weight but Georg barely heard him. Surely this couldn't be happening - not here, not now! They were on a naval base for God's sake! A naval base that was bombed not too long ago! He suddenly felt sick with dread, the world spinning on its axis around him leaving him dizzy. This was surely all his fault for coming to Hampshire in the first place.. what the hell had he been thinking leaving a heavily pregnant wife at home! But then again, he would never have anticipated that his idiotic best friend would drag her half way down the country so that she could give birth to their child at a naval base surrounded by imminent danger..

"Why in God's name did you bring her here!"

Before Max had a chance to answer, Maria acknowledged her husband's presence for the first time since her arrival by suddenly grabbing a fistful of his collar and wrenching him down to face her with surprising strength.

"This is all your fault!" She hissed through clenched teeth, her eyes burning with that same righteous anger he'd seen by the lakeside during their very first confrontation, " _get this thing out of me!_ "

Georg gulped. He could've sworn he heard a snicker from one of the cadets but it hardly mattered, for Maria's death stare abruptly silenced whoever the culprit had been.

"I don't think we have much time Georg.." Max rasped as Robert dismissed another of the boys and took a place by the impresario's side with a muttered curse of sheer disbelief.

"To the hospital wing!" The baron bellowed, the authority in his voice leaving no question as to their destination, "Becker.." he addressed the gawping cadet in the office doorway who looked as though he'd been sentenced to death, "run ahead and warn the nurses of the.. unusual circumstances. Have them prepare for our arrival. Go!"

The cadet hurried in the direction of the hospital wing, though whether it was Robert's command or Maria's sudden roar of agony that caused him to break into a run, Georg wasn't sure.

* * *

The hospital wing was quiet, save for one or two men who'd obtained mild injuries during training, or those who were still recovering from more serious wounds inflicted during the blast all those months ago. Even the flustered young cadet who'd just hurried through the doors was talking to the nurses only in low, careful whispers, as though not wanting to disturb the peaceful scene around him.

But the boy needn't have bothered keeping the noise down, for mere minutes later the hospital wing was thrown into complete and utter bedlam as six men and a howling pregnant woman burst through the double doors in a cacophony of shouts and activity, much to the horror of the three nurses on duty.

"On the bed!" The oldest of the men shouted, pointing to one of the many free places in the wing as the boys hurried the girl's large frame toward the safety of the mattress.

"Captain Von Trapp!" The eldest of the nurses cried, her eyes blown wide as she ran a shaky hand through her greying hair, "Becker just informed me.."

As though snapping suddenly to attention, she clapped her hands together authoritatively and began barking orders to the other nurses about wet paper towels and various utensils, but Georg barely heard a word as he sank to his knees at Maria's bedside and grabbed hold of her hand.

Looking up, he was startled to find the young cadets still in the room, their mouths hanging open as they watched the scene before them. They'd hardly seen a woman in the last few months, let alone a heavily pregnant screaming one, and the intrigue was all too obvious on their faces.

"Get out!" Georg cried incredulously, as they all tripped over each other to scurry from the room, no doubt to spread the delicious news that Captain Von Trapp was entirely losing his head over the fact that his wife was about to give birth in the hospital wing.

"Maria sweetheart," he turned back to her, stroking the damp hair from her brow and pressing a kiss to her burning cheek. The panic was rising rapidly in his chest - after all, he remembered with shame, not once had he witnessed the birth of any of his children. He had absolutely no words of comfort to offer, he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

"Will she be okay, sister Gertrude?!" He croaked, addressing the elderly nurse who was fussing efficiently with the tools she needed. The utensils looked awfully intimidating and again he felt the sting of shame for having left both of his wives to deal with such turmoil alone. Had Agathe been in this much agony when she'd done this without him, he wondered?

"She seems stable," the nurse explained, "there's nothing I can see to be alarmed about. Though -" she checked Maria a second time to be sure, "the baby will be along any minute now."

"Christ..." Max muttered from the corner of the room, alerting Georg to the fact that they were still far from being alone. He looked up to find the impresario, Robert and three bedridden officers gawping in their general direction and before he could banish them from the room, sister Gertrude rapidly pulled a curtain around Maria's bed with a scandalised growl, offering some much needed privacy.

"The baby will be here imminently, Captain," the nurse warned, as she adorned rubber gloves while her assistants fussed around Maria like pestering flies, "I suggest you make an exit now before you see something you'll never be able to un-see."

Georg's eyes blew wide at the implication but he gulped past the sudden lump in throat, "I'm not going anywhere!"

"Suit yourself," sister Gertrude shrugged, "though you might want to stay up near your wife's head.. my brother once likened the scene to watching his favourite car being blown to smithereens.."

And then she began fussing around Maria's legs as though her shockingly vivid declaration was of absolutely no consequence, while Georg entirely failed to mask the horror written across his face.

Nevertheless he stood his ground, turning back to Maria and gripping her hand just in time to hear her wail of pain and feel his fingers cripple under her sudden bone-crushing grip.

* * *

Max had always loved drama. Ever since he was a boy he'd been drawn to gossip and scandal, always being the first to obtain the latest secrets whispered around the schoolyard. As he'd grown older, his penchant for gossip had only escalated and he was delighted to discover that it was rife amongst the Austrian aristocracy that he'd become so acquainted with.

Maria's labour in the front seat of Robert's car had to be the juiciest drama he'd experienced in years - though he'd highly resented being in the centre of it all. He much preferred being a bystander while others struggled through such deliciously impossible situations. He was still thanking God that they'd made it to the base in time, but as the hands of the clock on the wall ticked by outside the hospital wing where he and Robert were sat waiting, he found himself growing restless once again. Had there been any complications? Was Maria going to be alright? Was the baby safe? He needed a cigar and a strong drink.

He glanced at Robert, whose eyes were weary and tired. It was midnight and the baron had managed to place a call to an absolutely panic-stricken Margaret who'd had absolutely no idea where Max and Maria had fled to. Max had felt uncharacteristically guilty then - the poor children must've been worried sick, but the panic of the car journey had distracted him from anything else. He'd been far too hellbent on getting Maria to safety and ridding himself of the responsibility of delivering Georg's child. In the end, after much calming down, Margaret had left Robert with strict instructions to let her know the minute the baby had arrived.

Another twenty minutes passed in silence, the only sound the sinister tick tick tick of the clock as it taunted them into restlessness. Just as both men were beginning to drift off on each other's shoulders, they were suddenly startled awake by the unmistakable sound of a baby's cry. Grabbing each other in excitement and scrambling to their feet, they were greeted mere moments later by an entirely dishevelled Georg throwing open the doors and slumping against the doorframe in defeat, a bashful grin breaking across his exhausted features.

"I... I have son," he muttered in disbelief as he ran a shaky hand through his hair, "another boy.. _our baby boy_.."

* * *

 **A/N: hats off to the men in this chapter for somehow managing to restore some form of order! please do let me know if you're still enjoying the story, more updates soon.**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: me again! Thanks so much for the recent reviews, so glad to know you're still enjoying it, your kind words are what motivates me to write! I think there's a few chapters more in this story but it's gradually coming to its conclusion. Thanks again for sticking with me on this journey!**

* * *

"Did you see the size of her?!"

"Bloody massive!"

"Well she _was_ pregnant you idiots, what do you expect?"

"Well _excuse me_ for never having seen a pregnant woman up close before!"

"I'm sure you've never seen _any_ woman up close before.."

"She was quite a handful, I'll say that much.."

"Handful or not, I'd still show her a good time..."

"Higgins!"

"What! You can't deny it gets pretty lonely being cooped up here! And she was rather nice looking despite the... size."

"Did you see how the Captain lost his head? He didn't even panic that much when the base was bombed!"

"I don't blame him, she was bloody terrifying!"

"Well I can certainly think of several ways to show her who's boss.."

"Higgins!"

"Oh for God sake Anderson, don't be such a bloody prude!"

"I'm not a prude, you're just vulgar!"

"I wonder if the kid's here yet..."

An abrupt clearing of the throat silenced the gossiping cadets immediately and they whirled around in sheer horror to discover the Captain's friend - was it Mr. Detweiler? - leaning against the door jamb of their bunk, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes gleaming with mirth. Instantly, the boys leapt to their feet and smoothed out their uniforms nervously, leaving Max almost giggling with glee at the fact that he'd somehow managed to have so much authority bestowed upon him.

"Sir!" the boy called Higgins cried, shifting agitatedly from foot to foot, "how long have... I mean to say.. what did you.. how long have you been standing there?"

Max gave a dangerously low chortle, rolling his moustache between his thumb and forefinger calculatedly, "only a few seconds boy," he lied, "why, what did I miss?"

"Nothing! Nothing.." Higgins retorted as his shoulders seemed to sag in relief, "we were just wondering whether the baby had arrived safe?"

Max's eyes narrowed into slits, "what was it you said your name was again? Higgins?"

The boy looked to his comrades hesitantly, as though he'd be singled out for slaughter, and then gave a reluctant nod.

"Your concern is touching Higgins, it really is," Max rolled his eyes sarcastically, his German accent making him appear all the more menacing somehow, "yes, the Captain and his wife have had a son.."

"That's wonderful news!" The cadet named Anderson exclaimed jovially.

"Yes," Max drawled with a smirk, "and perhaps now the baroness is no longer so - what was it you called her? _Massive?_ \- Higgins will finally be able to show her that _good time_ he so graciously promised.."

Higgins' face fell then, and he made a bizarre sound somewhere between a strangled gasp and a helpless whimper.

"I mean, I'd have to run it past the Captain first," Max studied his nails nonchalantly, toying with the boy like a lion mauling a gazelle, "I'm sure he'd be more than happy to hear what you've been saying about his wife.."

"I'm.. I.." Higgins stammered, his face flushing beetroot as he fought for words, "I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry.. please..."

"Please what?" Max sneered with false bafflement, "you mean to say you don't want to show the baroness a good time after all? Tut tut.. she will be most disappointed."

The boy gulped and tugged at his collar desperately, finally finding his voice, "please don't say a word about this to the captain!"

"Oh for God sake you moron, I'm not going to tell him, he'd only shoot the messenger first!" Max snapped as the other boys snickered, watching Higgins' face contort as though he were about to burst into tears.

"Now clean up your act!" Max commanded, rather enjoying his chance at playing the authoritarian. These boys had no clue he had once been in their position and he was making the most of this rare treat. No wonder Georg had stomped about blowing whistles and barking orders for all those years - it was positively addictive!

"We need blankets, clean cups, food for the baroness.. she's rather exhausted as you can imagine," Max commanded, "Anything you can find that might be useful."

The cadets merely stood gawping at him, rooted to the spot until he clapped his hands together aggressively and kickstarted them into action with a bark of indignation, "get to it!"

When they'd finally scrambled from the room, Max gave a merciless laugh before doing a quick scan of the corridor from the doorway, one eyebrow raised in mischief. Satisfied that he was very much alone, he set to snooping through the drawers of the bunk and digging under the grubby old mattresses on the beds. He'd once been a cadet himself after all and unless times had changed, he was fairly certain he'd find exactly what he was looking for somewhere around here.

Down on one knee, sweeping an arm blindly under the last remaining mattress, he was just about to give up his search when finally his fingers wrapped around what was unmistakably the neck of a liquor bottle.

"Bingo!" He chortled in triumph. No matter how addictive barking orders at people might be, Max Detweiler knew he would always be an unruly cadet at heart.

* * *

"He looks exactly like you," Maria grinned, unable to tear her eyes away from the little bundle of tiny arms and legs and blankets cradled in her arms as Georg ran a single finger over the shock of dark, fluffy hair belonging to baby Johannes.

"He can't possibly look like me, he's beautiful," Georg beamed, every bit as incapable of tearing his eyes away, "he's all _you_."

"I'm not sure if you've _seen_ my hair," Maria scoffed, "somehow I don't think it's _my_ pigmentation that Johannes has inherited."

Georg gave a wry chuckle in response and planted a languid kiss against her lips, a kiss that spoke of nothing but the love, devotion and heartache they'd endured these past volatile months. He couldn't quite put his gratitude into words, couldn't quite verbalise everything she'd done for him, everything she'd sacrificed in abandoning her vocation, raising his children and bringing him back to a world that had been disappearing before his very eyes. She'd followed him to the ends of the earth, endured hell and high waters for him, kept their family safe and supported him in every decision he'd made since the moment they'd declared their love for one another. He could hardly make sense of the intensity of his love for her, and all she ever asked for in return was a place in his heart. The truth was, she'd had it in the palm of her hand ever since the moment she'd rescued him from despair.

When he finally broke away from their kiss, he barely left an inch between them and the air was suddenly heavy and thick with emotion. Maria wondered, as her laboured breathing quickened, whether he could hear her heart thundering in her chest.

" _Our son_.." he murmured in disbelief against her lips, his eyes burning with such adoration that she was knocked momentarily breathless. He pressed his lips to hers again - once, twice.. three times - and then before she knew it a firm hand was caressing her jaw and she was opening her mouth to his tongue, allowing the force of his kiss to demonstrate everything that words couldn't. The longing behind his ministrations made her head spin - it was as though he suddenly couldn't contain his burning need to treasure the mother of his newborn son.

With a sound somewhere between a groan and a rasp, he eventually pulled away, leaving her feeling entirely bereft despite her body's exhaustion. Desire suddenly hung thick between them like an ache that couldn't yet be extinguished.

"I don't.. " he choked, "I never thought..." his voice cracked unexpectedly with unspoken emotion, and instinctively Maria gripped his hand in hers, hoping to offer him the comfort he so desperately needed. She knew what that burning look meant - that his emotional longing for her was blending dangerously with the physical, as it always did when he was anguished. It was a look that normally led to heated gasps against naked skin, the desperate dancing of tongues amidst moaned confessions, the joining of body and soul alongside whimpered pleas of ecstasy. But they both knew, without a word spoken between them, that this time it couldn't end that way.

Instead, he offered her a watery smile as he tried to regain his composure, knowing all too well that he needn't explain himself to her. She already knew exactly how he felt, she already knew exactly what he was going to say - without him ever having to say it.

He didn't need to tell her that he was entirely struck dumb at being given another chance at fatherhood, a chance to witness the birth of one of his babies, a chance to finally do things right. He'd made so many mistakes with his children, mistakes that Maria knew he would burden himself with for the rest of his days. He'd missed so much of their young lives - at first because of his duty to his country, and later, because of his all-consuming grief.

And now here he stood, choking back the tears of gratitude at being given the opportunity to do everything he should've done seven times previously. An opportunity to witness everything he'd missed, everything he'd run away from, everything he'd pushed aside as a grieving widow and an absent father. He'd spend the rest of his life making it up to his first seven children, she knew, but baby Johannes would never know the sting of his father's indifference, would never witness the backlash of his father's grief. She knew, in the deepest recesses of her heart, that from this day forward, her baby boy and his older siblings would never question the extent of their father's love.

She pressed another kiss to his lips then, willing him to understand that she didn't doubt him for a second, "there has never been ten luckier children in the world Georg, than the ten who have you as a father."

"Ten..?" He smiled wistfully, resting his forehead against her own.

"Lucy and Thomas of course.. they need you.." she'd thought about telling him the terrible news of their parents ever since she'd awoken from her post-labour exhaustion, but the timing just hadn't seemed right. Georg had been far too consumed with meeting his newborn son.

"Ah yes, but you forget we also have Max," Georg grinned until the dimples she so loved were denting his cheeks, entirely distracting her from her woeful thoughts, "that makes eleven."

They shared a chuckle while Johannes mewled helplessly, already vying for his mother's undivided attention. Georg tucked a finger under the boy's chin and cooed gently, knowing already that he'd be every bit as boisterous and incorrigible as all the other Von Trapp men before him. A comfortable silence hung between the three of them then, the only sound the gentle shuffling of Johannes movements against his mother's chest.

"Why did Max bring you here?" Georg broke the silence, his voice suddenly low and grave, "I could _kill_ him for the danger he's put you in.. why wasn't doctor Knight called to the house? Why didn't Margaret-"

"Shh Georg, it's okay," Maria soothed, cupping a palm against his cheek, "it's my fault. I demanded that Max brought me down here, I didn't really give him much choice. It wasn't until we were already on the road that I went into labour."

Georg's brow knitted in confusion as he played with Johannes' tiny fingers absentmindedly, "I don't understand.. why did you demand to come here?"

She breathed a heavy sigh, her eyes glued to the place where her son's tiny hand gripped Georg's large one, "to tell you that Lucy and Thomas' parents were killed in the Blitz," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

A sharp intake of breath and a muttered curse word, and Georg was suddenly on his feet, pacing the floor in front of the bed as his fingers twitched nervously by his side. Maria's heart broke for the young evacuees all over again, remembering all too well how lost they seemed, even without knowing of their parents' death - especially little Thomas, who had stopped asking after his own father and had begun longing for Georg instead, regularly tugging on Maria's skirts and pointing hopefully at the unopened model boat that Georg had promised they would build together. She didn't know what she'd do if Georg refused to help them.

"Those poor children," he whispered to no one in particular, "are they okay?"

"They don't know yet," Maria sighed as Georg ran a weary hand through his hair, "I wanted to tell them together, as a family, but you never answered my telegram.."

"Your telegram?" he scowled, "I never received a telegram?"

Maria shrugged, "it hardly matters now. What matters is that they aren't abandoned to carry this burden alone," her voice shook but she spoke firmly, "I know what it's like to be orphaned at such a young age.. your children also know the pain that comes with the loss of a parent. I can't bare to let them face this alone."

"Well they won't have to," Georg replied resolutely, his shoulders drawn back in a fiercely protective stance, as though they were suddenly back in the grand hallway in Aigen all those months ago, "we'll take them with us.. to America."

Maria could've kissed him all over again. How was it that this extraordinary man, so different from her in so many ways - in upbringing, in class, in history, in character - could think exactly as she did when it came to the things that really mattered?

"My thoughts exactly," she grinned with relief.

"We should leave soon darling," he muttered gravely, taking his place by her side again and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "The Blitz has calmed, we have a newborn, we can't stay in England forever.."

She nodded against his shoulder, knowing he was right. The war was far from over and England wouldn't be safe for a very long time. The thought of bringing Johannes up in such a volatile area made her sick with dread and if they were going to leave for America, it would have to be sooner rather than later. It wouldn't be easy, travelling during such dangerous times with an infant and nine children in tow, but Georg was right, the waters had calmed somewhat - at least for now, at least enough to get them safely out of the country.

"Do you feel strong enough to travel?" Georg asked, sweeping the hair affectionately from her forehead, "I don't want to keep you both at the base any longer than I have to.. it's not the safest of places to keep a baby. I want to get you back to Northampton and start planing for America."

She nodded in determination, "I can get back to Northampton well enough.. I want him to meet his family."

"Well lucky for you," a cheeky voice quipped from the doorway, "two of his family members are right here waiting for a formal introduction."

Georg whirled around to find Max and Robert waiting eagerly for permission to come closer, their widened eyes falling excitedly to the bundle in Maria's arms. She grinned and gestured for them to approach the bed, finding their genuine intrigue entirely adorable.

"Robert, Max," Georg cleared his throat with beaming pride, "meet your newest grandson and nephew, Johannes."

"My God Georg," Max cried, craning over the newborn and running a finger down his satin cheek as Robert clapped Georg on the back, "he looks just like _me_!"

He threw Maria a salacious wink, much to Georg's chagrin and Maria couldn't help but giggle mercilessly at the less than amused look on his face. It wasn't long however before he was smiling again, sharing congratulations with the older gentleman and looking happier than Maria had seen him in months. How incredibly blessed Johannes was, she thought - how incredibly lucky _she_ was, to have the unwavering love and support of such a wonderful, unbreakable family.

* * *

Amidst the growing darkness of the office, the only light came from the glow of the table-side lamp, the only sound the ominous ticking of the grandfather clock that stood tall in the far corner of the room. Rain beat heavily upon the windows and the trees outside danced aggressively against the harsh winds that whistled in the pitch black of the night. The office's only occupant sat in shadow, his face hidden from sight and his fingertips drumming an impatient rhythm against the desk top - watching, waiting, counting down the minutes.

Eventually, the piercing shrill of the telephone broke the deafening silence and the man lurched forward in his chair, grabbing aggressively for the receiver before the first ring had even reverberated off the walls cast in shadow.

"Sprechen!" the man snapped as he leant further over the desk hesitantly, his beady eyes fixed to the empty fireplace as he awaited the news he'd been hoping to hear.

"You were right sir," the officer on the line spoke in low murmurs, his voice scratchy across the poor connection, "he's at the naval base in Hampshire."

The man's fingers stilled abruptly against the table top and his lips curled into a dangerous snarl, the beads of sweat collecting across his greasy brow, "Where did you get this intelligence?"

"An intercepted telegram, sir," the voice on the line retorted, "it came from Northampton. As far as we know, our target is still in Portsmouth."

"Excellent," the man drawled, banging a fist triumphantly against the desk and downing the glass of darkened liquid that sat upon its mahogany surface, "activate operation Todesfalle! The Luftwaffe attack at dawn."

"As you wish, Herr Zeller."

* * *

 **A/N: If I'm drawing this story to a close soon, I couldn't possibly leave you without one last hurdle for our favourite couple to overcome! Again a slightly shorter chapter than some, since I want to do the next part justice. Please do let me know your thoughts and I promise I won't leave you hanging for too long!**


	40. Chapter 40

"Congratulations again, Georg," Robert grinned, sinking into the chair behind the office desk and pouring two more generous glasses of the questionable amber liquid they'd been enjoying before Maria's whirlwind arrival, "he's a Von Trapp through and through, that much is already obvious!" The elderly man chuckled to himself as he handed Georg a tumbler, recalling how the tiny little boy had struggled and flailed boisterously in his arms only minutes previously. It had seemed as though the stubborn little nipper was never going to settle down, until finally he'd closed his tiny blue eyes and drifted into easy sleep. His little sighs of contentment had soon sent an exhausted Maria into slumber too and Georg had managed to extract Johannes from his mother's arms, settle him down in the makeshift crib they'd assembled using blankets and a cleaned out desk drawer, before the men had eventually backed out of the room silently, leaving mother and baby to rest.

"Who'd have thought it," Georg chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief, "a father again in my mid forties.."

"And by your former governess," the baron winked with a suggestive chortle, "I suppose you of all people should know, Georg, that boys will be boys!" The gleam in Robert's eye convinced Georg that he was only being teased but he felt like a schoolboy caught in the act all the same.

"It wasn't like that, not at all," Georg was mortified to notice that he was actually blushing in front of his father in law. The truth was, he'd rather die than confess that he'd been a complete rake and fantasised multiple times about his children's governess far before she'd ever belonged to him.

How could he ever reveal the way he'd dreamt about her silken skin, the way it had seemed so real when he'd imagined her supple curves pressed between his aroused body and his bookcase? How could he confess that he used to spend their regular meetings longing to reach out and brush a thumb across her lower lip, imagining what it would be like to taste her, to sweep his desk clear of its contents and unlock the passion he could see dancing behind her innocent gaze?

How could he ever admit that he used to relieve his building desires in the dead of night alone in his four poster bed, panting and burning all over, driven mad by tantalising blue eyes and milky soft skin? Knowing it was the only way to prevent himself from acting upon his inappropriate thoughts.

Even when he'd lost his memory, he'd been drawn to her body like a moth to a mysterious flame, a flame that he couldn't seem to extinguish without taking matters into his own hands.. And when she'd tended to his wounds after his attack, he'd felt the most unexplainable burning desire to reach out and touch her, to make her blue eyes darken under his attentions.

He hadn't even been able to confess such scandalous things to Maria in their intimate moments after they'd been married. He'd resolved to keep his sordid secrets to himself for the rest of his days, but then his unpredictable bride had proven to be a salacious, enthusiastic and passionate lover - one who encouraged him to share his deepest and darkest desires. He felt himself growing redder still under Robert's gaze, as he pondered what his wife's reaction might be if he described to her what her employer used to do to himself while thinking of the fire burning behind her eyes..

 _God forgive me,_ he thought, shaking himself out of his dangerous reverie as his body began to facilitate the beginnings of arousal. It really had been far too long..

"I'm only pulling your leg dear boy!" Robert guffawed at the bashful flush creeping into his son in law's cheeks, "I know full well you're a man of honour, I saw it well enough with our Agathe," his eyes began to glaze over with memories, "One could just tell from the way you looked at her..." he trailed off then, his face becoming somewhat wistful as he looked straight through Georg as though he had been transported to some corner of the past momentarily. But it passed as quickly as it had come and before long he was grinning again, swilling his drink in his glass nonchalantly.

"No, I most definitely know a rake when I see one and you are no rake..," he took a deep swig of the amber liquid and thumped on his chest in disgust as it burned its way down his gullet, "you remember old Johnston? The earl from Essex?"

Georg nodded, taken aback by the sudden change of subject, "how could I forget?"

"Now _there's_ a rake if ever I saw one!"

Georg rolled his eyes, remembering all too well the night of Margaret's 60th birthday ball when he'd been introduced to the slimy, bushy-haired earl who'd spent far too much of the evening leering at Agathe while his poor wife had sat miserably in the corner of the room by herself.

"Believe it or not," Robert smirked, leaning further forward in his chair as though he were delivering the most scandalous gossip of the season, "our dear earl not only had a smashing affair, but he bought a house in Chester solely for his mistress! His wife found out about the property a few months ago but they fled the country in light of the Blitz and no one quite knows what her reaction was.. could've killed him for all we know!"

"I think you're mistaking me for Max if you expect me to be tantalised by such sordid gossip," was Georg's quipped response, "I forgot just how much you yourself loved a good scandal!"

Robert threw his head back and laughed heartily, a deep booming laugh that Georg had always found comforting, "Nonsense boy," the baron barked jovially, "think of me as nothing more than a charming public service. I'm merely passing on interesting information to those who wish to hear it!"

"Ah yes," Georg teased, smirking mercilessly, "a real do-gooder!"

"Naturally!"

"Well you're not providing a very good service my friend," Georg chastised with a grin, "I didn't even discover the news of my own wife's labour until she was on the doorstep! Surely that's the biggest gossip of the decade? You must be losing your touch."

Robert chortled bashfully before the boyish smile was replaced by a slight frown knitting his brow together in confusion, "Yes, how is it that you had no idea?"

Georg gave a shrug, "She sent a telegram apparently but it never arrived.."

"What?" The smile abruptly left the baron's face.

"A telegram.. to tell me I was needed at home. But when I never replied she forced Max straight into the car.." Georg smirked sheepishly, "Of course it wasn't until she got here that she suddenly went into labour-"

"No," Robert interrupted with sudden urgency, "back up a minute. You never received the telegram?"

"No.. " Georg reiterated with a frown, "it just never showed up.."

Robert sat back in his chair and pondered for a moment, his forehead creased with puzzlement. Georg was entirely baffled by his sudden strange behaviour and it seemed like an age passed before he finally spoke again, "You don't suppose..." Robert trailed off on a mutter, as though talking to no one in particular.

"What?" Georg pressed, his curiosity peaking.

"You don't suppose it might've been.. " the baron paused, lost in thought as concern began to crease his features, "intercepted?"

A blank stare was Georg's only response.

" _Intercepted_ Georg.." the baron pressed, stressing the word as though no further explanation was needed.

Another blank stare.

For Goodness sake! Robert thought, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. For someone so brilliant, Georg could be ridiculously oblivious when he chose to be! No wonder it had taken him so long to realise his feelings for Maria when she'd been under his employ! Sometimes it was as though the man had no idea what was happening under his very nose!

Mere moments passed and still Georg said nothing, looking entirely baffled and apparently oblivious to Robert's meaning. The elderly gentlemen fixed his son in law with a pointed stare and a raised eyebrow that left no question as to exactly what he was implying, but still apprehension evaded Georg.

He supposed he could hardly blame the boy - he'd been so wrapped up in the birth of his son that it hadn't even occurred to him that his wife's telegram might've been lost for sinister reasons. Clearly he'd allowed his strategic and calculating mind to stray from the potential threats surrounding the base. But it was imperative, Robert thought, that they left no stone unturned. There was every possibility that the Nazis had caught wind of the telegram, and he would never forgive himself if something happened to-

But the baron never got the chance to finish his train of thought, for a sudden, earth-shattering blast from somewhere in a distant corner of the base splintered his reverie into a thousand pieces, shaking the very walls around them and shifting the ground sickeningly beneath their feet. The glass of amber liquid slid from Robert's fingers with a shatter and both men froze in panic, gripping the arms of the chairs beneath them until their nails bit into the wood. Neither dared to move, as though even their blinking might confirm their worst fears. Time seemed to stand still, the clock on the wall striking 5am, before the base suddenly erupted into a tirade of noise and hysteria that Georg couldn't make any sense of.

Within milliseconds, sirens were wailing and men were hurling themselves from their bunks, half dressed and frantic, running to their rehearsed emergency positions and tripping over their own feet in their urgency. Shouts and orders were being barked left right and centre, boys as young as Friedrich darting between the grown men in a flurry of fear and confusion. Georg felt entirely unable to move as another deep rumble and thundering boom shook the very foundations around him, his heart hammering in his mouth and his brain incapable of functioning. Only one thing ran clear in his mind while the rest of the world seemed to move in slow motion around him: they were under attack. Again.

While his body was rooted to the spot, his military mind was suddenly working on autopilot, running through the standard protocol, assessing the strategy behind their defence, calculating the necessary steps to ensure maximal survival - he'd done this a thousand times before and this time was no different. Until the mortal in him remembered, with a sickening wave of all-consuming dread, that his wife and child were within these crumbling walls.

"Oh Jesus!" he choked, the colour draining from his face as his heart plummeted into his shoes, "Maria... the baby!" He launched to his feet with such force that he almost knocked the chair out from underneath him, adrenaline coursing through his veins with such intensity that he thought he might pass out. This couldn't be happening again, not now, not today. _Not to his tiny baby boy!_

"Go!" Robert barked over the sudden din, launching to his feet and resuming his authoritarian command as though he were managing an entire fleet of naval cadets, "get Maria and Johannes and take one of the cars!" He slammed a fist down atop the desk before launching into military action with the complete absence of fear, his face a grave mask of determination that would've given even the most frightened boys the incentive to fight, "I'll find Max and we'll meet you out front. _Go!"_

Georg could only nod desperately before turning on his heels and hurtling down the corridor towards the hospital wing, shoving past the thick stream of men and boys who were thundering in the opposite direction to assume their battle stations. He'd die before he let the Nazis so much as hurt a hair on his wife or son's heads. How foolish he'd been, thinking they'd be safe here in the base even for one day! He should've barrelled the two of them into the car and driven them straight back to Northampton the minute he'd known Maria was stable, but she'd been so exhausted and the base had seemed so secure these last few months that he'd thought one more day wouldn't make a difference... He should've known by now that nowhere was safe. The military man in him would've considered all possibilities, would've earmarked all potential dangers - but he'd complacently felt as though he and his family were suspended in some kind of unbreakable bubble. How wrong he'd been...

Another ear-splitting explosion ripped the wall behind him to smithereens as he threw himself round a corner, the ceiling falling in mere feet away from him to reveal patches of early morning sky where the roar of Luftwaffe engines could be heard above the cacophony of turmoil within. But still he didn't stop for breath, forcing one foot in front of the other at full pelt amidst the dust and noise and panic, until finally he threw his body against the doors to the hospital wing. Staggering into the room, he was devastated to find a sobbing Maria and a wailing Johannes alone in the room cast in shadow, his tiny son cradled in his wife's arms as she rocked him back and forth desperately in an attempt to sooth his cries.

"Oh Georg!" She choked back another sob, "the other men.." she looked to the empty beds where the injured cadets had lay, "they just _left_ us! The explosions.. and the sirens went off and they just upped and fled!"

Her voice broke in relief at the sight of him and he rushed to her side, gathering her tightly into his arms, jaw clenched tight in his attempt to bite back the unrelenting rage he felt towards his so-called comrades. The damned cowards! Blood pounded in his ears and his heart threatened to burst from his chest but another explosion - this time much closer - forced him to keep his head.

He gripped Maria's tear-stained face between his hands firmly, their eyes locking with such intensity that for a single moment it felt as though nothing else existed in the world but the three of them. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, the screaming of the sirens, the distant shouts of panic-stricken men, it all seemed to die away in the split second that their eyes met.

"I'm here now my darling," Georg whispered, his eyes burning with a fierce protectiveness that bathed her with a sudden warmth, rapidly replacing the cold dread that had gripped her soul only moments previous, "I'm never going to let _anything_ bad happen to either of you."

She believed every single word. And with that, he extracted Johannes gently from her trembling grip, cradling him in the crook of one strong arm and hushing his cries against the pillow of his chest as he rushed to help Maria out of bed. She fell against him, light as a feather, her body still weak from her exhausting labour - but her face was set with a newfound determination that filled him with much needed confidence. He knew, in those terrifying moments, with the backdrop of chaos and mayhem engulfing them, that together they would brave this storm, just as they'd braved every storm before it: hand in hand, with God on their side, and fight in their hearts.

* * *

Max couldn't recall ever running so fast in his life as he catapulted at lightning speed towards his destination, his feet carrying him in the direction of the hospital wing before he'd even had a chance to blink. He couldn't possibly fathom what had possessed him to do it, for he was normally the first man to flee in the opposite direction at the slightest whiff of danger. And yet here he was, practically tripping over his own shoelaces in his haste to jump headfirst into the danger zone, all to ensure someone else's safety.

He'd been happily nursing his alcoholic discovery in the privacy of an empty bunk when the first explosion had hit, sending his prized possession shattering to the ground in a mess of glass and liquor at his feet. He'd momentarily frozen to the spot, panic rising like bile in his throat, before flinging the door open and, in typical Max fashion, scouting his surroundings desperately in search of an exit - as though it would somehow save him.

But much to his bewilderment, he'd made it halfway towards his escape route when something had stopped him dead in his tracks, causing him to turn on his heels and march in the entirely opposite direction until he was suddenly breaking into a run, speeding toward the hospital wing with unfathomable momentum. He knew deep down however, that it wasn't something, but rather someone, who'd influenced his uncharacteristic heroism. He'd rather die than admit it to anyone, but the minute he'd stroked his newest nephew's silken cheek he'd known from that moment forward that he would love him as fiercely as he loved all of Georg's children. He'd never been one to verbalise his emotions - he'd always preferred the role of the joker - but Georg's family had always been every bit his own family. And he wasn't about to sit idly by and risk another loss even more devastating to the family than the last.

He was abruptly snapped out of his reverie when he nearly catapulted headlong into the very subjects of his thoughts, Georg cradling a tiny Johannes in one arm and Maria's frame huddled against the other. Max rested his hands on his knees and panted for breath, relief coursing through him. He should've known Georg would make it in time.

"Max!" His friend cried, "thank God!"

"No time," Max rasped on a shaky breath as another explosion rattled the floor beneath them, yet more men thundering past in an attempt to find the location of the blast, "we need to leave. Now!"

"Have you seen Robert?" Georg pressed, "he went searching for you!"

Max could do nothing but shake his head.

Georg steadied Maria on her feet, concern marring his face before he shoved his hand into his pocket hastily and fished out the keys to the car he and Robert had driven to the base on their latest journey. Thrusting the keys in Max's direction, he swallowed a painful lump in his throat as he was suddenly reminded of a time not too long ago, outside the broken kitchen window of the villa in Aigen, when Max had forced the keys to Franz's truck into his own hands and insisted that he flee to Switzerland without him. He'd been utterly convinced that day that he'd never see his best friend again and yet here they were once more - at a crossroads, making sacrifices to save those they loved, leaning on their friendship to survive.

"Take Maria and Johannes..," Georg commanded, his voice grave but urgent, "I'll find Robert and meet you at the car. If I'm not there in ten minutes, leave without me."

"Georg!" Maria cried, crestfallen.

"Your _word_ Max!" Georg barked, knowing if he looked at Maria he would lose his resolve entirely.

The impresario looked pained for a few moments, as though he too was remembering previous anguish, but eventually he gave a reluctant nod and took the keys, gathering Johannes gently into his arms and ushering for Maria to take his hand.

"I love you both," Georg insisted, "I won't be long.."

And with that, he took off on his heels, hoping against hope that he was right.

* * *

Despite his error of judgement in underestimating the Nazis, Georg Von Trapp was first and foremost a strategist, a logical thinker. And it seemed entirely logical to him that Robert would be looking for Max in the south wing where the bunks and offices could be found. So that was exactly where he was headed, flying through the maze of corridors and stairs that led to his destination, the route seeming almost eerily silent now that the majority of men had followed emergency protocol, save for the distant hum of propellers and the inevitable blows that he'd rapidly learnt to block out.

Ascending the last set of stairs, he could finally make out the office at the end of the corridor that he and Robert had been relaxing in. Was it only half an hour ago they'd been sharing a tipple over the birth of his son? How quickly the world could shift on its axis, shaping the future for better or for worse, without so much as a single warning.

Taking a second to catch his breath, he broke into another run, determined to find his father in law and return to Northampton as a family. He knew the baron was as stubbornly righteous as he was, and would refuse to leave without having found Max first. Only a few more seconds and he'd be at the office door and if Robert wasn't there, he'd be in one of the nearby bunks - Georg was sure of it. He'd been a fool to hide away from Robert and Margaret for all those empty years. Within weeks of arriving in England he'd realised they were parents to him just as much as they'd been parents to Agathe. He'd wasted so much time wrapped up in grief rather than healing with the love of his family and it seemed as though he'd never quite be able to make it up to them.

His feet carried him forward mercilessly, driven by the burning determination to find the man he now considered a father. But he managed only five more steps before a blast fiercer than any he'd experienced since his days at sea lifted his body clear off the ground and threw him backwards with so much brute force that he was sure he must already be dead. The world seemed to implode around him, soot and ash and debris engulfing everything that had existed mere moments ago. He felt his body slam into the ground, or was it a wall? Was he laying or standing? He wasn't sure. All he knew was darkness. His ears were ringing, his eyes were refusing to focus and his lungs were rapidly filling with dust, unable to even choke for oxygen. Entirely incapable of movement, the only indication that he was still alive was the overwhelming adrenaline thundering through his veins.

Time seemed to stand still as the abyss stretched on. He could've been laying there for a minute or an hour for all he knew, but none of it mattered. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, felt his breathing slow dangerously against the influx of dust. But just as he was about to slip blissfully out of consciousness, an image so vivid he wondered momentarily if it was real forced itself to the forefront of his mind. It was the image of Agathe, cradling baby Leisl on his first return on leave after her birth. The image dissipated to reveal another - of a boisterous Friedrich flailing in his mother's arms the very first time Georg had met him. Then came Louisa.. Brigitta.. Kurt, Marta, Gretl, all as clear as day before his very eyes, cradled by their beautiful mother. His heart seemed to thud hopelessly as finally, the image of his newborn son danced before his eyes. Johannes, who he'd met not even 24 hours ago and who had entirely captured his heart the moment he'd wrapped his tiny fist around Georg's finger, bundled in Maria's arms..

 _Maria._

His eyes snapped open with a newfound courage. He was not going to die. Not today. _Not today_. He was going to die an old man, with his wife and children and grandchildren by his side. He was going to watch his children grow into adults, watch the years add even more beauty to his wife's face as they shared life's blessings and obstacles, joys and heartaches. _He was not going to die today._

As the dust began to settle, he hauled himself to his feet, amazed to discover that he was mostly unscathed. His relief was short lived however, when he forced his eyes to finally focus, only to be confronted with a sight that turned his heart to stone. The office that had once stood at the end of the corridor, where he'd spent so many long nights with his father in law bent over blueprints and sharing memories over a glass of questionable liquor, was now no more than a gaping hole, a pile of rubble, a mess of debris engulfed in furious flames that danced menacingly in front of his face.

The entire wing had been reduced to a cesspit of devastation, the corridor twisted and splintered beneath his feet, like a path of despair that seemed to tantalise him towards death. Georg couldn't function, couldn't bring himself to believe what he was seeing, couldn't even begin to contemplate what it meant for his family.

Robert's jovial face rose up in his mind's eye and before he could even make sense of what was happening, a strangled cry of anger, hopelessness and sorrow was tearing from his lungs and suddenly he was running, running as fast as his legs would carry him, running for the exit, running for his wife and child, running from the suffocating heat, running from the unbearable anguish.

 _Running from the devastating realisation that his father in law was gone._

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry to leave you with such a sad cliffhanger. I'll update again very soon, please let me know your thoughts.**


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: I wanted to give you a quick update, so here it is. I warn you, it's not a happy one and things are pretty bleak but it won't be so sad forever. Please do review, as always your thoughts mean everything!**

* * *

The silence in the car was deafening, the low hum of the engine and the heavy hammering of rain against the windows doing nothing to alleviate the unbearable tension in the air. Grief seemed to seep into every corner of the plush leather seats, Johannes' tiny mewls almost going unnoticed amidst the backdrop of darkness that seemed to hang over the vehicle like a suffocating cloak of despair.

Max cleared his throat as he shifted his hands on the steering wheel, opening his mouth as if to speak. But he abruptly closed it again and instead focused on the road in front of him, as though unable to find words that did justice to the horrors they'd just witnessed.

Georg hadn't spoken a word since they'd spotted him running from the burning west wing building a mere hour ago. Alone. They'd been sitting restlessly in the car and Max's fingertips had been drumming against the steering wheel agitatedly as he prepared the key in the ignition, weary of his promise to get Maria and Johannes to safety. But Maria had pleaded with him to have faith, to wait just a few moments longer before honouring his word.

The minutes had ticked by unbearably and, just as Max had decided to turn over the engine with a growl of reluctance, Maria had given a scream of protest that had rooted him to his seat, and he'd looked up to discover the sight of his friend dashing from the plumes of smoke that engulfed the building in front of them. The next thing Max had known, a bruised and panic stricken Georg had hurled himself into the back seat and bellowed at the top of his lungs for Max to drive.

"But what about Rob-"

"I said _GO! NOW!_ " Georg had shouted with so much force that the wheels had spun against the gravel in Max's haste to obey orders. Within seconds they'd been hurtling down the country roads, the crumbling base and the roar of the Luftwaffe engines lost to the distance stretching out behind them.

And not a word had been uttered since, the air thick and heavy with the implications of Robert's absence, the restless quiet almost worse than the deafening blasts they'd endured. Maria's head spun with unanswered questions, questions that she couldn't bring herself to ask for fear of what the answers might be, for fear of how Georg might react.

She risked a sideways glance in her husband's direction and her heart broke for him as she studied his appearance. He was sat with his back to her, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he stared blankly out the window, worrying his lower lip between his fingertips with one hand while the other lay clenched, tight as a rock in his lap. His entire body with rigid with anguish, his clothes torn and caked with dust that coated him from head to toe. She could just make out his side profile, parts of his face cast in shadow - from the storm raging outside the window, or from the storm raging within - she wasn't sure.

Much to her dismay, she watched as a single tear ghosted a path down his cheek, glistening solemnly in the fleeting headlamps of the odd vehicle that drove past them, battling against the dimness of the morning storm. What had happened back at the base? What had Georg seen that he couldn't bring himself to explain? He looked more lost than she'd ever seen him, as broken as when she'd discovered him crouched in a heap against the side of the road in Davos. She wanted desperately to reach out to him, to grip his clenched fist, to stroke the tension out of his knuckles and cradle his hand in hers. She wanted to sooth his bruised soul somehow, to show him that she was there. But for the first time in their marriage, she felt utterly hopeless in bringing him comfort. What could she possibly say or do to ease this man's unimaginable suffering?

The guilt he must've felt, the shame he'd be torturing himself with for leaving his comrades - some of them mere boys - behind. A captain always went down with his ship, Georg had once told her. And while he hadn't been in any real position of power at the base - he was there only to help build _Sea Devil_ after all - he'd still felt a level of responsibility in keeping the crew safe. At it was, his ship and his comrades were still very much under attack, while he fled in the luxury of a new model convertible.

She wanted to hold him in her arms and reassure him in hushed whispers that he'd had no choice, that once again he'd found himself hopelessly pinned between his duty to his post and his duty to his family, the lines blurring so messily that he hadn't stood a chance. If he'd stayed he would've risked the life of his baby boy. But she knew that he'd never forgive himself for fleeing while other men suffered in the wake of his negligence.

And what of Robert? If he were here, he'd have insisted that Georg did the right thing. That sometimes terrible sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. Robert would have reassured him that staying at the base would've made very little difference - after all, Georg was only one man - a man who was far more valuable to the cause alive than dead. But Robert wasn't here to offer such fatherly advice, to soothe the guilt in Georg's heart. And she knew, deep down, from the way her husband's jaw was set heavily in turmoil, from the way his eyes churned with misery in the window's reflection, that Robert would never offer such comfort again.

Maria was no stranger to loss and grief, but she couldn't quite imagine what it must feel like for such a strong and stirring man to lose both a wife and a father in law, while being entirely powerless to stop it. It seemed he'd only just learnt to recover from the loss of his first love, and yet he'd been confronted immediately afterwards by the loss of his country, his home, his memories and now the closest person to a father he'd had since his own parents' passing.

Despite her better judgement, she found herself reaching across the seat and gripping his hand in hers silently. His fingers were ice cold and he didn't move, didn't turn to face her, as though he couldn't bare to look into her saddened eyes for fear he'd have to confirm what he already knew to be true.

Fearing her touch was unwanted, she made to withdraw her hand, but suddenly his fingers tightened around hers and he gripped her desperately as his whole body began to tremble, his eyes never moving from the window as silent, angry tears continued to fall one after the other. And that's when she realised that no words needed to be said. It was clear in the way he clung to her, in the way his body shook with distress, in the way his tears fell in tandem with the rain outside.

And she felt the wave of grief faster than she could make sense of it, her free arm tightening around Johannes in a fierce display of protection as she mourned for the loss of the baby boy's grandfather, the loss of Margaret's husband, the loss of Georg's confidante, and the loss of a man who'd become a dear friend to her ever since the moment she'd first heard his booming laughter and been wrapped in his warm, welcoming embrace.

* * *

When the car finally ambled to a halt outside the Whitehead's country home, Max killed the engine and the resulting stillness seemed to reverberate off the seats as the three passengers sat in silence, hardly daring to move. Moving would mean having to confront what had happened, having to explain to Margaret and the children what they'd witnessed. Moving would mean having to accept that Robert hadn't made it back with them. They seemed to share a wordless agreement that just a few more minutes of silence, of solitude, were needed before the chaos ensued.

The stillness was suddenly interrupted when Max threw open the driver's door, climbed out of the car and paced in front of the bonnet before bringing his fists down against the metal in an uncharacteristic display of rage and despair, a twisted curse tearing from his lungs. The noise caused Johannes to wail hopelessly and Maria hushed him into her breast, her heart pounding, but still Georg remained motionless, his face an unreadable mask as he stared unblinking out the window. It was as though he were suspended in time and space, as though he were still back in Hampshire, watching whatever horrors he'd witnessed as they played out in his mind's eye.

"Georg..." she murmured, her voice low against the lump in her throat as she gave his hand a light squeeze, "is Robert-"

"Gone," Georg breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, his breathe steaming the window, "he's gone."

There it was, her fears confirmed. Another devastating loss for a family who'd already endured so much. The children would be heartbroken. Not to mention the fact that little Thomas and Lucy were still oblivious to their parents' deaths. And Margaret? Maria couldn't even begin to imagine the heartache the baroness would feel when they broke the news to her. But sitting in the car was only going to delay the inevitable, was only going to make the truth all the more difficult to come to terms with. Georg was inconsolable, she realised, and he simply didn't have the fight left in him to face the next few hours alone. It would be up to her, she knew, to support him through it, to be the bulwark he so desperately needed - her stoic, complicated, vulnerable captain.

Wordlessly, she let go of his hand and traced the lines of his jaw with her fingertips, gripping his chin and turning him to face her for the first time since they left Hampshire. When his eyes met hers, she felt her heart sink at the sight of the tears still pooling there, his brow furrowed in sadness and his irises darkened with sorrow. She held his cheek in her palm, willing him to understand that he was blameless in this mess and that she would be by his side, for as long as he needed her.

"Come.." she whispered, leaning towards him and pressing a kiss to his lips, "we will face this together."

He nodded wordlessly, choking out a barely audible 'thank you', before closing his eyes in anguish and pressing a kiss to Johannes head, breathing in the calming scent of his son. Gathering his composure, he gave a tight nod before they joined Max on the gravel and made their way to the house, where the children would no doubt be eating breakfast by now, entirely unaware that they had lost one family member and gained another.

* * *

When Margaret heard the snick of the front door being opened, she felt her fork slip from her fingers, jumping as it clinked loudly against the china. She looked up to discover all nine pairs of young eyes around the table suddenly falling on her and she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat under their scrutiny.

Hurriedly regaining her composure, she cleared her throat apprehensively, "get back to your eggs children," she instructed, pushing her chair back gently, despite her desperation to break into a run towards the hallway, "I'll be back momentarily."

And with that, she dashed from the room, hoping against hope that her assumptions about the source of the sound had been correct. Much to her delight, she rounded the corner and discovered exactly who she'd been hoping to see standing in the doorway. Her eyes immediately fell to the tiny bundle in Maria's arms, and her overwhelming excitement left her entirely oblivious to Georg's bizarre appearance and the grave looks upon her guests' faces.

"Oh my goodness," she cooed, her palms pressed to her cheeks as her eyes lit up with joy, "is this him? Is this little Johannes?"

Before Maria had a chance to respond, Margaret was by her side, reaching out for the boy as her eyes danced with adoration, "may I?" She asked hopefully, a genuine smile breaking across her features.

Unable to bear the woman's happiness in light of what she knew, Maria cast her eyes to the floor and handed Johannes over while Margaret gushed over her grandson for the very first time.

"Oh he's positively _beautiful_ Maria.." she breathed, her gleaming eyes lifting to grin at her audience. It was then that she noticed Georg's disheveled appearance and the smile immediately fell from her face, replaced instead by a confused frown marring her features.

"Georg?.. what on _earth_?" She eyed the group in bafflement and carefully handed Johannes back to Maria, but much to her confusion nobody would meet her eye. Maria felt her heart begin to pound with unrelenting dread as she watched Margaret's face etch with sudden worry.

"Where's Robert?"

The silence was palpable.

" _Where's Robert_ , Georg!" The rising panic in the baroness' voice made the hairs on the back of Maria's neck stand on end and she watched in dismay as the elderly woman rounded on Georg, shoving her frail fists against his chest to illicit some kind of reaction that would confirm or deny her fears. But still Georg couldn't meet her eye.

"Answer me!" She shouted, her voice breaking as she pushed him again, " _tell me!_ "

Without warning, his bloodshot eyes suddenly locked with hers in unspoken affirmation and Margaret froze, her arms falling limp at her sides as the colour drained from her face.

"No.." she choked swaying dangerously on the spot and clutching at Max's shoulder in her desperation when the impresario came to her rescue, "It _can't be_.."

"I'm so sorry," Georg rasped, and even in his devastation, Maria could see he was wrought with unfounded guilt.

The strangled sob that wracked Margaret's body as she collapsed against Max sent a sinister chill down Maria's spine. It was as though the news had torn the very life from her.

"Take her to the study," Georg commanded, his voice surprisingly strong despite the circumstances, "the children can't be witness to this."

He turned to Maria as Max led Margaret away, his jaw set and his face stern, "I need to calm her, explain everything.. before we talk to the children. I don't want them to know we're here just yet."

She nodded wordlessly, despite her desperation to see their brood. She'd missed them terribly but she knew that timing would be everything when it came to handling the situation with care. She still had no idea what had happened back at the base but she understood that Georg would tell her in his own time. Margaret however, was owed an immediate explanation.

"I'll wait in our room and we'll greet the children together."

"I want the first time they meet their brother to be a happy one," Georg murmured, "we'll break the awful news to them later. They can't know this just yet.."

Again she nodded her agreement, pressing a reassuring kiss to his forehead before voicing what had been playing on her mind since they'd left Hampshire, "Margaret ought to come with us, Georg.. to America. We can't leave her.."

"I plan to ask her exactly that," he confirmed, "but only if you're in agreement with me."

He didn't need to explain that he regretted ever having made any important decisions without her. She knew, from the look in his eye, that he'd never hide his plans from her again.

"Of course," she whispered, her eyes glazing with unshed tears, "she's part of the family."

* * *

Georg tried his best to hold it together as he made his way to Robert's study, knowing that he would have to somehow assign words to the unspeakable things he'd seen. He felt his chest restrict once again at the thought of having to look Margaret in the eye and explain to her that he'd failed to save her husband. Just like he'd failed to save her daughter..

When Agathe had fallen ill, he'd employed the best doctors money could buy, considered every medicine that might bring her back to health, and spent morning, noon and night by her side - feeding her, bathing her, soothing her as she fell into fitful sleep wrought with high fevers and nightmares. But none of it had ever been enough. She'd slipped through his fingers like quicksand one fateful night almost five years ago, and had taken her last breath while clutched against his chest as her beautiful blonde hair collected the tears that streamed from his face.

And now he'd been unable to save her father.. _his_ father. For that's exactly what Robert had become to him, a father in his own right. The baron had welcomed Georg back into his home with open arms as though the four years of unanswered telegrams had never happened. He'd welcomed Maria to the family, he'd given Georg a navy again, a true sense of purpose in light of the war, he'd gathered baby Johannes into his arms as though he were his own flesh and blood. Georg had _tried._ He'd tried so hard to bring him home. But again, it hadn't been enough.

He found Margaret slumped in a chair by the fireplace, her hands gripped in Max's as the impresario attempted to soothe her sorrow. Gone were the erratic sobs from the hallway, replaced instead by an icy composure that hid her turmoil well - a technique no doubt learned during her aristocratic upbringing. It unsettled Georg far more than he'd expected. He rather wished she'd go back to beating her fists against his chest - at least then she'd shown signs of life, of having some fight left in her. Now all he saw was a broken woman.

"Margaret.." he murmured from the doorway, as two pairs of weary eyes fell on him, "I really am so sorry..."

Max patted Margaret's hand and stood, "I'll give you both a moment," before slipping from the room, giving Georg a woeful smile and a squeeze of the arm.

"Thank you my friend," Georg murmured as he passed, "for everything you've done.."

Max waved his gratitude away with a flick of his hand, "call it about even old man," and with that, he slipped from the room, leaving a terrible silence in his wake. Eventually, Georg closed the door and made his way to Max's vacated seat, reaching for Margaret's hands himself. Before he'd barely had a chance to grip them in his, she opened her mouth to speak, though her eyes remained glued to the floor.

"How did it happen, Georg?" her voice was hoarse, so alien to him, and it chilled him to his core.

"The Luftwaffe attacked," he rasped, "we think they intercepted Maria's telegram and discovered I was there. It's all my fault-"

"Don't." She snapped with sudden vigour, taking him by surprise, "don't say another _word_ like that. Robert would argue the exact opposite and you know it. I _know_ you Georg, I've known you for twenty years. You tried to save him. Didn't you."

Georg could only nod wordlessly as the all too familiar lump formed in his throat again, "but if I'd never accepted the post-"

"Then the Luftwaffe would've attacked anyway and the Royal Navy would be without _HMS Sea Devil_ ," she interrupted sharply, "no more of this Georg. Robert would have boxed you round the ears for such self pity."

She was right of course. Here he was, wallowing in self-blame while his mother in law was grieving for the loss of her husband. Robert was gone, and all Georg could do now was ensure the safety of his family. He had to keep moving, had to keep fighting. Because - just as with Agathe, and just as with Robert - he'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't try everything in his power to protect them.

"If there's anything I can do.." he felt stupid saying such cliched words, but what else was there to say? He was powerless, completely helpless in fixing such a godawful mess.

"You can take this horrible thing and use it to give you the strength to carry on," she whispered, "for your family. He'd have wanted us to fight more now than ever before."

It was as though she'd taken the thoughts right out of his head. And he found himself suddenly in awe of this woman, this baroness who had once treated him with contempt and disapproval, this mother and wife who had lost more loved ones than anyone should ever have to endure, this woman who was experiencing the depths of despair - this woman was comforting _him_ , was willing _him_ to find the strength to go on, was urging _him_ to never lose hope.

"We can't stay here," was all he could manage by way of reply, "I suspect they must know where the telegram came from.."

She nodded resolutely and pulled herself out of her chair with difficulty, making her way towards the window where she stared out into the meadow surrounding the house, "There's a property in Chester," she said gravely, her shoulders tense, "it was abandoned when our friends fled from the Blitz a few months ago."

"The Earl?" Georg asked, "the house for his mistress?"

"Yes," she turned to face him with a frown, "How did you know?"

"Robert told me..."

She seemed to blanch at the sound of her husband's name and Georg understood all too well the pain she must've been feeling. He remembered how he himself hadn't been able to hear Agathe's name for four years after her death without feeling entirely hollow.

"Once Johnston and his wife left the country, the Earl told Robert we were welcome to use that house as an escape if London ever became too unsafe. We never needed to use it, since we had this place," she gestured to the walls surrounding them, "but now I think his offer will come in handy after all."

A fleeting sense of relief washed over Georg as a logistical problem he'd foreseen slowly ebbed away. They had a safe location they could run to, thank God. Did Robert have this in mind when he'd told Georg the story of the Earl and his mistress? Had he known they might need to flee?

"We should waste no time," he explained, standing to join her by the window, his hands clasped behind his back and he watched the lambs dance in the meadow before them, oblivious to the pain of their onlookers, "we should leave for Chester in a few hours. We'll break the news to the children once we get there. And we'll tell Lucy and Thomas about their parents too."

He watched as Margaret flinched against his words once again - she must've momentarily forgotten about that particular heartache and he inwardly chastised himself for reminding her. Still he pushed on.

"From there, I'll get my affairs in order before we head to the port in Liverpool and leave for America. _All_ of us. Together. As a family."

She spun to face him then, her eyes wide and guileless, so different from the aristocratic mask he often saw her wear - the mask he himself had once been so familiar with. He realised, as he watched her struggle to find words, that he was seeing her at her most vulnerable for the very first time. Gone was the firm exterior and here stood a woman who felt broken, frightened, and utterly alone.

"I'll be sure to take care of you for the rest of your days, Margaret," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers, "I can promise you that," and he meant every word as he opened his arms to her, hoping she'd let him be the support she so desperately needed.

His mother in law had been right, all those months ago, when she'd said losing a daughter could change a woman. And it seemed that losing a husband could do the very same, for the elderly baroness suddenly fell into her son in law's open arms with a cry of utter relief, allowing him to cradle her into his chest as the strangled sobs tore from her throat and she permitted herself to express her grief at last.

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 **A/N: please bear with me, things will get better!**


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N: some of you may be glad (and others scandalised) to know that this is rated as a pretty strong M. I figured it's about time our favourite couple caught a break! It may be a bit too much, it may be just right. Who knows. But I hope you enjoy and please do review.**

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Georg von Trapp was an ardent man, a passionate man, a man who fought fiercely and loved fiercer. It was true that he'd experienced a life of luxury and lived in the utmost comfort - at least until recently. But despite the lavish lifestyle he'd been so fortunate to experience in his forty odd years, he knew heartache better than most. He knew what it felt like to watch friends succumb to the murky depths of the sea, to hear them scream for their mothers as they took their last, terrified breaths. He knew what it felt like to cradle a wife and soulmate as she slipped into the next life. He knew what it felt like to seek solace at the bottom of a bottle, unable to bear the sight of your own children. He was no stranger to the rage that came with having your homeland torn from under your feet. And now he knew the anguish of losing a father in law, a confidante, one of the few remaining ties he'd had to his dear Agathe's memory.

Yes, Georg von Trapp was an ardent man. He felt his grief, his guilt, clawing at his insides more so now than ever before. And he was old enough and wise enough to know that his sorrow sometimes manifested itself in _unconventional_ ways..

 _Sex._ It was all Georg could think about. He was altogether ashamed and unbearably frustrated all at once. After everything the family had been through, what it felt like to sink into the warmth of his eager wife's body should've been the last thing on his mind. But as it was, he found himself consumed by it, confronted with fierce waves of shocking desire at the most unexpected times - when Maria bent to pick up their son and her blouse would hang low from her body, when she moaned her approval over their food when eating breakfast, when she touched him innocently as she passed him on the stairs - and he'd have to remove himself abruptly from the scene before the evidence of his thoughts became too visible to onlookers through the strained fabric of his trousers.

It had been two months since they'd last been intimate. _Two months._ Children, grief, the after-effects of labour and a newborn baby had all combined to prevent any real passions from becoming ignited. And he found that his lust was becoming entirely overwhelming, altogether insatiable and utterly impossible to ignore.

It wasn't like Maria hadn't _tried_ to be intimate with him - on the contrary, while her body was still very much recovering from Johannes' arrival, she'd still been eager to try and please him in other ways. She seemed to take great pleasure in seeing his desire for her wreak havoc on his body. He remembered their very first night in Chester, when they'd finally settled into their new bed, broken and exhausted, and she'd suddenly closed her silken hand around him before he'd even realised he was aroused.

It had taken all of his willpower to stop her, and he'd gently extracted her fingers from his body, pressing a kiss to them instead, willing her to understand exactly why he was refusing her advances. She was still healing and the truth was, he didn't trust himself to resist the temptation of losing control and ravishing her entirely. Selflessly, or perhaps _selfishly_ , he wanted to wait until he could have _all_ of her, he wanted to wait until he could love her fully and claim her body with his own, instead of succumbing to the allure of her hand or her supple mouth - something she'd wanted to do on more than one occasion since their arrival.

But he was beginning to curse his own sense of honour, finding himself growing increasingly more ragged with need. And he knew full well why he felt this way. It wasn't so much the physical want that left him ravenous for her, though he was certainly aching for release. It was rather the fact that he was _hurting_. It was the fact that his anguish was threatening to consume him and she was his only relief. He found himself battling with a primitive and selfish need to let go of his pain, to relieve his suffering in the beautiful contours of his wife's body, to forget the turmoil around them and lose himself to her, and - he was ashamed to admit - to possess and control her in a world in which he no longer seemed to have control over anything. Quite simply, he needed nothing less than to be inside his wife's body.

And he found that the longer he waited, the more shocking and animalistic his fantasies of her would become. It had started out innocently enough, when he'd find himself daydreaming of languid kisses, milky skin and gentle caresses, missing the way Maria's body would move in tandem with his own as she cried out her pleasure.

But as time went on, and the more he regretfully declined Maria's tempting advances, his thoughts grew wilder and more primitive in nature. Gone were the recollections of butterfly kisses and lovingly intertwined limbs, replaced instead by shocking images that flashed across his mind and left him burning all over with shame and overwhelming arousal. He was altogether mortified and undeniably desperate at the same time. His thoughts were beyond deplorable and yet, for all his military discipline, he couldn't shake the vivid images of her wanton and ready for him.

"You're far away..where are you?" The very woman he'd been thinking about broke through his disturbing reverie and he whirled round to find her standing in the doorway, looking lovely as ever, and leaving him feeling even more ashamed of his wayward thoughts. He didn't quite know how to tell her that his mind was somewhere in the midst of a desperate and heated encounter in which she was tied to a bed by a particularly strong sailor's knot..

"Just thinking.." he breathed, turning away from her again and staring out the window where the silhouette of rolling Cheshire countryside greeted him amidst the blackness of the night outside, the tiny chapel on the edge of the hill looking rather morbid lit up against the rain that pelted down upon the otherwise idyllic landscape. He found it soothed his overactive imagination.

"About?" She mused, shutting the door behind her and stepping closer, rolling one of the billiard balls across the green velvet surface of the table in front of her absentmindedly.

"Honestly?" He retorted, "you. I was thinking about you."

"How _romantic_ ," she teased, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. _If only she knew.._

"You know, you can tell this house was once owned by an aspiring bachelor," she scoffed, "what with the billiard table, the smoking lounge and the morbid decor," she looked to the blandly painted walls with a haughty sniff of disapproval.

"You sound just like a snooty baroness," he teased with a woeful smile to himself.

"I'm perfecting the art," she retorted playfully and he gave a chuckle that she could tell didn't reach his eyes.

"Are the children finally asleep?" He asked, placing his own hand over her silken arm affectionately as he leaned back into her embrace. He felt her nod against him and she exhaled deeply in relief, the heat ghosting up his neck unexpectedly - and he found himself closing his eyes against the sudden rush of desire that licked at his loins. Pushing past the frustration, he willed himself to think.

"Do they seem okay?" He whispered sadly. It had been over a week since they'd arrived in Chester and broken the news of Robert's death to the children. They'd each dealt with their grief in their own personal ways and Georg had been shocked to discover that it was the very first time he was truly witnessing their mourning. He couldn't quite believe he'd ever let them suffer through the grief of their mother's death alone - it stirred him deeply to see their pain so clearly, where before he hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.

Friedrich had surprised everyone the most by shedding tears the minute he'd heard the news and Georg had gathered his son into his arms to try and quell the boy's gentle sobs. Louisa had struck out in anger, hurt and confused by the losses they had all suffered. _It wasn't fair_ , she'd cried, and Georg had to admit that he entirely agreed with her. Leisl had clung to Maria like a docile child, looking more fragile than he'd ever seen her. How had such a young girl managed to support her siblings through their mother's passing at the age of twelve? The little ones had struggled to understand the news, asking their father if grandpa was going to keep mama company in heaven. That one had been particularly difficult for Georg to hear.

"They're just quiet," Maria replied, her eyes downcast, "they're trying to come to terms with it."

It was an understatement but he accepted it nonetheless. What more could he ask of his children than to try and keep moving?

"Johannes is with Margaret for the night," Maria added on a whisper, "I think his presence soothes her.."

Breathing a deep sigh, he turned in her arms, his face grave with unspoken melancholy.

"And Thomas.. Lucy?"

He didn't miss the hesitation in Maria's eyes. They'd taken the two youngest children away from their siblings - for that's exactly what the von Trapp brood had become to them by now - for an afternoon in the Cheshire countryside, not long after having arrived in their new lodgings. Little Thomas and his sister had met the news of their parents' passing with heartache and sadness, though they didn't quite understand exactly what it all meant. They knew however, from their older siblings' recollections of their own mother's passing, that they'd never see their parents again. Thomas had stuck like glue to Georg's side ever since, asking on numerous occasions whether Georg too was going to leave them unexpectedly. The question often left Georg breathless with melancholy, and he knew he'd do everything in his power to make sure the two little English children who'd captured his heart would never suffer such loss again.

He glanced at the mantelpiece across the room then, where a little model boat stood tall and proud upon the mahogany surface. Determined to stay close to Thomas and fulfil his promise, the two of them had spent many hours over the last few days poring over instructions and fiddling with intricate pieces until the little boy's Christmas present had finally been completed and the eyes of its proud owner had glistened with wonder. He knew then, that the little boy he'd formed such a delicate bond with would be just fine.

Lucy however, had become rather more subdued, as though she'd mustered the forlorn acceptance of a girl far beyond her years. He prayed that, as time went on, she'd come back to herself, surrounded by the love of her family.

"They'll survive," was Maria's simple reply, though it was wrought with sadness and the unspoken implication that only time would tell. They knew now there was nothing else to do but wait, wait until Georg had his affairs in order so that they could finally leave for America.

Georg gripped her waist a little tighter then and nodded solemnly, his eyes fixed to the boat. He could only bring himself to meet her eyes again when he felt her finger, unbearably soft, tuck under his chin and lift his face until his gaze locked with hers.

Her face was so beautiful, so pure amidst the darkness he felt engulfing his heart, that he found himself wanting desperately to strip them both bare, emotionally and physically, until there was no more heartache, no more war, no more loss, no more fear - until there was nothing but the two of them left vulnerable in their rawest form.

He searched her eyes and found his own sadness reflected back at him, her face contorted with empathy and compassion - and he could tell there was a question waiting on her rosy lips.

"Go ahead," he whispered, his eyes burning, "ask me."

She hesitated, before taking a deep breath, "what _happened_ at the base, Georg?"

Maria was a patient wife, despite her seeming inability to exercise patience in any other area of her life. And she knew that her stoic captain took to brooding at the worst of times, struggling alone with his grief and shutting the world out when he was hurting deeply. He hadn't breathed a word of the horrors he'd seen to Maria or any other soul since they'd left the base that day and until now she'd respected his desire to remain silent. But she was beginning to fear that he would allow the experience to tear away at his conscience. She feared that he would withdraw from his family once again, that he would suffer his heartache in isolation and bear the guilt of their loss.

She watched the array of emotions play out across his face as he battled inwardly with himself over how much to reveal - hesitation, anguish, guilt, a flash of anger, and worst of all, overwhelming sadness. His eyes bore into her own, the darkness she found churning there filling her with dread and anticipation all at once. Neither of them seemed to breathe, knowing that the words once uttered could never be taken back, that once he opened his mouth the loss would have to be confronted once and for all. It felt like hours had passed, or perhaps it had merely been a few seconds, when his face finally crumbled and he exhaled a shuddering breath that made her lungs tighten as he pulled her closer desperately, burying his face in her hair.

"I _tried_ ," he choked as his voice shook, closing his eyes against the pain of his confession, "I tried to save him."

She burrowed her arms under his lapels as he clung to her, slipping her hands around his waist and allowing his body to wrack against her with the force of his silent sobs. He had only expressed such raw emotion a handful of times since their treacherous journey had begun all those months ago and she found that she was rapidly transported back to the day he'd first made love to her in Davos, crying unashamedly in her arms, such was his overwhelming despair. And here he was once again, not the aristocrat, not the sea captain, not the wealthy baron, but simply a man reduced to his lowest common denominator, a man exposed in his most vulnerable form.

"Oh _darling_ ," she soothed, cradling him as best she could, knowing there was nothing she could say to relieve his anguish.

"I made it as far as the office.." he stammered into her hair, tightening his grip around her as though it hurt to recall the memory, though now that he'd started, he found the words came rushing out, "but then.. " he swallowed hard, "there was a _godawful_ blast.. it threw me across the floor. Everything went black. When I was unconscious, I saw the children, each of them with Agathe... and then Johannes with you.. it gave me the strength to fight the darkness," he took another shuddering breath and forced himself to continue, "When I finally came to, the whole wing was up in flames. I.. I could hardly see anything, but I could _smell_ them burning.."

As difficult as it was to re-live what he'd experienced, he felt as though a weight had suddenly been lifted. He'd witnessed so much violence and terror in his navy days that he'd almost become numb to it over the years, burying it away deep down where he never had to confront it. The horrors of war were rarely spoken about, and to be emotionally affected by it was akin to revealing your own weakness. But that still hadn't stopped even the bravest of military men from experiencing night terrors and shell shock as a result of the unspeakable things they'd seen. Maria had been the first and only person to encourage him to share such turmoil, to assign words to the terrors that remained forever etched onto his eyelids. And he felt something shift within him as he breathed the words into her hair, as though a damn had suddenly burst in the deepest recesses of his heart.

He nuzzled into her neck as he let the sorrow finally claim him, the tears falling not only for his father in law, but for the boys who would never return home, for the mothers who would never see their sons again, for the wives who had lost their husbands in the shadows of Hitler's tirade. He had apparently finished talking and instead undertook to burrowing deeper into her shoulder in an attempt to muffle his whimpers, as though he were somehow ashamed of demonstrating such fragility. Maria did have to admit, if someone had told her all those months ago, when she'd first met her stern captain, that he would one day trust her enough to weep on her shoulder like a vulnerable child, she would've eaten that ludicrous whistle of his.

But as it was, she didn't have time to contemplate such a ridiculous notion, because her captain's sobs eventually began to calm and in their wake came light, languid kisses that he began pressing to her throat where his face remained buried - one, then another, then another as he clung to her - slow, intoxicating kisses that caused the atmosphere in the room to hum suddenly with a new and dangerous rush of anticipation. His ministrations grew increasingly more urgent, his wet mouth opening against her skin and making her body tremble with unexpected need.

And before she could determine up from down, before she could make sense of his sudden change in behaviour, his hands were twisting into her hair and he was nipping at her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, his whimpers giving way to deep, desperate groans of intoxicating relief. He was finally _succumbing,_ she realised - succumbing to the need that had been welling up inside him, and his frantic urgency was altogether shocking and incredibly arousing all at once. It was like his sense of honour was slipping through his fingers and he was finally allowing himself to lose control, to forget his anguish and act only on the primal urges he'd been desperately trying to conceal. And she found that she revelled in his sudden need for her, his heady moans and roughened touch setting her entire body aflame.

Within seconds, his mouth descended on hers with another fierce groan of urgency and a hand fell away from her hair to grasp roughly at her breast, the insistent nature of his actions leaving no doubt as to what he was aching for. Feeling instantly dizzy, she parted her lips eagerly for his insistent tongue, and she found herself tugging his shirt impatiently from his trousers, leaving her free to explore the skin of his back and the dark curls that peppered his torso.

She was being swept away on a wave of sensation as he moved their bodies in tandem, driving her backwards until she suddenly made contact with the ridge of the billiard table behind her. Rather than feel alarmed by his insistence, she found she was utterly thrilled by it. She had, after all, tried to be intimate with him on several occasions since they'd arrived in Chester, but he'd wanted to wait, much to her disappointment. But now it seemed, as he wasted no time in grinding his heavy arousal unbearably close to her centre, that he could wait no longer.

Without warning, he broke their frantic kiss, throwing his head back and gasping for breath as he gyrated against her. It had just been so damn _long_ since he'd touched her and even contact as light as this was enough to make him feel as though he might lose control of his body at any moment.

His face, contorted in unrepressed pleasure, was enough to send her heart into her throat, and her fingers flew hurriedly down the row of buttons on his shirt as she met the thrusts of his hips with eager acceptance.

"We _can't.._ " he rasped suddenly, his breath coming in sharp bursts, "I shouldn't.." but while his words spoke of protest, at the very same time his body did the opposite, bunching her skirts frantically around her waist, lifting her onto the billiard table and guiding her velvet legs around him while she made fast work of the buttons on her blouse.

"Yes you _should_ ," she managed, her voice hoarse with need as she threw her shirt to the floor and grappled for his belt, fumbling desperately with the buckle until she was ripping it from its holds.

"But.." he protested weakly, doing nothing to stop her from shoving his own shirt down his arms while he watched his mutinous hands free her heaving breasts from the confines of her undergarments, "I don't want to hurt you.."

She gave him nothing by way of reply then, other than a dark gaze from under thick lashes as she hopped down from the billiard table, deftly undoing his trousers and following their descent until she was on her knees before him.

" _Oh god_.." he choked, knowing all too well what she was about to do and not entirely trusting himself to remain upright. But before he could pretend to protest, she was bending her head and a pleasure almost too intense to bear was suddenly coursing through him as she pressed her lips to him, the wet warmth of her ministrations evoking a shout that he couldn't contain, setting his blood to boil and making him grasp at the billiard table until his nails were digging into the wood.

She was relentless in her attentions and he resisted the urge to drive his hips forward into the overpowering sensations that were consuming him. He couldn't think, he could barely _breathe -_ he'd wanted his wife so badly these past few months and now it was finally happening. She gave a little moan against him then and he felt his eyes rolling back in his head as his heart thundered in his rib cage. Within minutes, he began to feel the telltale signs of his release building at the base of his spine. He wanted so badly to pull away, to stop her attentions before it was too late, to love her fully and spill into her beautiful body instead. But he found he couldn't bear to tear himself from the bliss of her supple mouth.

Just as he was about to succumb to the overwhelming relief, she pulled away from him abruptly and stood, leaving him all at once bereft and trembling with agonising need.

"Has that _convinced_ you, my darling?" She whispered, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mirth and unadulterated lust.

His eyes could've burned a hole in her face. He knew he must've looked entirely desperate, knew that his irises must've been blazing with uninhibited desire, knew that he was far past the point of no return - and it was this realisation, combined with the knowledge that she was just as desperate - that led him to launch himself towards her, lifting her onto the billiard table once again and tearing her remaining clothes down her body.

Within seconds she lay back for him without hesitation, and with a low groan he was suddenly sinking into the depths of her body, gathering her to him and holding her as close as space and time would allow.

"Oh _god_ I've missed you," he rasped against her lips and he let himself get used to the sensation of finally being inside her, willing himself to love her slowly despite his every nerve burning for release, "I could hardly _bear it_."

"I'm here now, my captain," she murmured, running her tongue over his lower lip and winding her fingers into his hair as their eyes locked, churning with unspoken adoration. And she found that she meant those words now more than ever before. She would be there for him for the rest of his days if he would let her, as a shoulder to cry on, as an outlet for his grief, as an equal to share in all of life's trials.

She could see it once again, the raw turmoil playing out across his face as he lay himself bare to her, losing himself in her body and revelling in such overwhelming intimacy with another human being. And as she arched into his movements, she could tell that he was still holding back, that he was attempting to be gentle so as not to hurt her. But the more fervently she responded to his thrusts and the more she cried out her pleasure, the more his iron control seemed to slip - and before long his languid movements gave way to a primal urgency that had him driving all of his turmoil relentlessly into the place where their bodies were joined.

It was frantic and chaotic and entirely intoxicating, his eyes burning into hers with such raw passion that she felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. Within minutes she found her wrists were pinned to the green velvet under his strong hands and she was welcoming his frantic urgency as he lost himself to her entirely. Nothing else seemed to exist then, apart from the desperate movement of their bodies as they worked in harmony to find sweet relief. And it could have been mere seconds or long hours later when she finally felt him stiffen between her thighs, the muscles of his torso pulled taught across his chest as he threw his head back and cried out her name in ecstasy, the strangled plea sending her soaring into the heights of rapture on a wave of sensation right there with him.


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N: sorry for the slight delay in getting this uploaded. Again I wanted to do it justice and there's only one or two more chapters before I finally bring this story to an end! I know I keep saying that, but it just never seems that I'm quite there yet.**

 **Anyway, I've made the first half of this chapter rather lighthearted (and hopefully funny!) to break some of the tension that's been rife of late. Please do review as I'd love to know you're all still with me!**

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Their frantic and heated encounter atop the billiard table had thrown Georg entirely off balance, leaving him feeling unexpectedly ill at ease. He'd assumed that by finally giving in to his body's demands and taking his wife against the plush green velvet - perhaps more roughly than he should have - he would've satiated his primal urges and rid himself of his wayward thoughts. How wrong he'd been.

Much to his wicked delight and inward shame, he found himself continuously haunted by the intoxicating memory - the crack of billiard balls scattering everywhere as Maria had laid back and opened herself to him, the uninhibited moans that had escaped from her mouth in tandem with the relentless snap of his hips, the intense euphoria that had thundered through his body when he'd pulled a final contraction from her - it was all vividly fresh in his mind as though she were still helplessly pinned beneath him, delighting in his frantic desperation.

"Father.." Brigitta's voice from somewhere in the vicinity was barely enough to pull him back into the room.

"Hmm?"

"Will you pass the sugar?"

He did so, being careful to avoid knocking over any glasses of orange juice in the process, though his eyes never left the newspaper that was gripped in his hand. It really was quite a ridiculous situation - he'd been staring at the letters on the page for the better part of half an hour without having read so much as a single word. The truth was, he didn't trust himself to meet the eyes of anyone else around the breakfast table for fear that they would somehow be able to guess, when looking upon his face, the sordid nature of his thoughts.

He was becoming increasingly more annoyed with himself for allowing his body to respond so vigorously to Maria's presence. What was it about her that reduced him to such madness? Whenever they found themselves in the throes of passion, barely a minute would pass after he'd come undone and he'd want her all over again. And that's exactly what had happened in the billiard room the previous night, for he hadn't been able to stop himself from taking her a second time - bent over the mantelpiece of all places! It was hardly the behaviour of a gentleman. Or a lady for that matter.. But she had met every one of his advances with arduous delight and so he had long since given up trying to protect her from his passions.

The truth was, it unsettled him how desperately he seemed to need her when he felt troubled by loss or grief or anguish - he loved her so fiercely that she seemed to be his only balm when he found himself brooding over such unpleasant things. He had to admit he'd been shocked when he'd first begun seeking an outlet for his sorrows in the form of sexual release - it hadn't been that way with any woman before Maria, least of all with Agathe. But he'd soon learnt that Maria offered him both a soul to confide in and a body to worship, in any way that he so desired. And it was this unashamed acceptance of his needs, her wholehearted and unabashed willingness to please him, the evident delight she took in being his only source of ecstasy - that had him so thoroughly rattled.

He took another shuddering breath and for once in his life, he was rather grateful for the ruckus his children were making around the breakfast table, for it served to remind him that he was hardly in an appropriate place to be thinking such wicked things.

"Kurt don't hog the hot chocolate," came Louisa's scolding voice from somewhere beyond his newspaper, "you know there isn't much left!"

"You don't even _like_ hot chocolate!" Kurt retorted with conviction, taking an ungentlemanly slurp of his drink for emphasis.

"Yes I do, who doesn't like hot chocolate?!"

 _"Children!_ " came Maria's sweet voice, "there's plenty to go around for now. Just consider yourselves lucky there was some left in the cupboards when we got here, despite the rations! And Kurt.." she admonished, "your sister is right, you really must learn to share."

She must've brazenly extracted the mug from Kurt's hands then and taken her very own sip, for there was an indignant cry of protest from his son, a bark of laughter from Louisa, followed by - _God help him_ \- a delectable little moan of pleasure from his wife.

 _Was she trying to undo him?!_ He attempted to mask a low groan, the heady memory of her naked body arching as she came apart beneath him flashing wildly in his mind's eye. Sinking lower in his chair behind his newspaper shield, he tried to shake the erotic image but it was no use - he could feel his blood turning hot with the first flames of desire.

He tugged at his collar helplessly as his face grew warm, though no one else around the table seemed to take notice. Years of military training, two decades of discipline and an array of risqué experiences in his youth - and yet here he was reduced to incoherency by the entirely innocent sound of his wife's satisfaction. He was no better than an errant schoolboy!

Doing his level best to muster some form of composure, he willed himself to re-focus on the page in front of him, to concentrate on the English print while - thank god - steady conversation resumed around the table. Surely he was capable of reining in his thoughts, of exercising some of that legendary control he had once been famous for. He was certainly not so ravenous with unrelenting desire that he couldn't behave like a fully functioning human being, for God's sake.

 _Pull yourself together man!_ He chastised himself - and with a final attempt at restraint, he managed to exorcise the vivid image of his gasping wife from his mind. _There_ , he thought smugly, taking an absentminded sip of his coffee and revelling in his newfound determination, _that wasn't so difficult now was-_

"So!" Max bellowed jovially, snapping Georg out of his internal pep talk, "Am I right in thinking you got lucky last night Maria?"

Georg's eyes blew wide and coffee sprayed in every direction as he began to choke violently, thumping uncouthly on his own chest with one hand and wrestling helplessly with the newspaper clutched in other. The pages rustled incessantly against his abrupt flailing and he was painfully aware that all eyes in the room were suddenly on him. All eyes, except Maria's.

"I.. I beg your pardon?!" the woman in question squeaked, her mortified gaze fixed on the impresario as though hoping she'd somehow misheard him. Watching the scene unfold before him in abject horror, Georg groped blindly for a glass of water and took a few desperate gulps to cool his flaming cheeks.

"Billiards.." Max retorted innocently through a mouthful of toast, "did you win? I went to inspect Thomas's little model boat this morning and noticed the balls on the table were in disarray... I take it Georg coaxed you into a wager last night?"

Georg chanced a glance at Maria and was dismayed to find that she wasn't faring much better than he was. The blood had drained from her face and she was repeatedly opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water as all eyes swivelled onto her. She looked around the room desperately, as though looking for someone to jump to her aid, and it seemed as though several excruciating hours had passed before she finally found her voice.

"Errrr _yes!_ " She breezed a little too enthusiastically, wringing her napkin in her hands so vigorously that Georg thought she might rip it clean in half, "Yes, he challenged me to a game but alas I lost.."

"Ah I thought so.. " Max chuckled, returning to his plateful of food with gusto, "well, don't take it to heart.." he took another lazy bite of his toast and waved the slice in the air emphatically as he swallowed, "Georg is, after all, very competitive.. and exceptionally skilled with his _cue_.."

Aghast, Georg opened his mouth to retort, but not a single word came to mind.

"It's true," Margaret piped in, entirely oblivious as she reached for her tea cup, "Agathe used to say how good you were, Georg."

It was Maria's turn to choke on her drink then, and she turned a shocking shade of puce as a confused Friedrich began pounding on her back in an attempt to ease her discomfort.

"Indeed," Max drawled, his eyes flashing wickedly as Georg felt himself break out into a cold sweat, "I imagine our Captain showed Maria a thing or two about _positioning_.."

 _Oh God._ Georg took another desperate gulp of water, rendered entirely speechless by the unwelcome images creeping back to the forefront of his mind.

"And grip.." the impresario added mercilessly.

Another gulp.

"And _ball manipulation_.."

"Children!" Georg cried, slamming his glass down and jumping to his feet in a desperate attempt to change the subject - only to rapidly grab the newspaper up from the table and place it strategically in front of his lap.

"How would you like to go for a picnic in the woods with your mother and I this afternoon?"

He flashed his layabout lodger a look of pure fire and Max responded with a positively gleeful smirk. His impish face was etched with mischief in light of his friend's evident discomfort, but it was with a sigh of relief that Georg found himself inadvertently saved by the sudden chorus of excited cries from his unsuspecting children.

And so a picnic in the woods appeared to be all arranged, much to Georg's chagrin. Whether he could trust himself to resist pulling his wife behind a tree and taking her up against the bark however, was another matter entirely.

* * *

The air was crisp and fresh, a light breeze rustling through the trees around them as the leaves danced with stunning hues of green, orange, yellow, red and brown. The sun shone high in the sky and the children's laughter could be heard echoing through the clouds as though the sound was being carried by the wings of the birds that flew overhead. It was serene, peaceful, almost idyllic - and for just one undisturbed afternoon, Maria allowed herself to fall under the welcoming illusion that everything was right with the world.

It was true that they had suffered greatly as a family, and the Von Trapps had been confronted with their very own personal demons long before Maria had ever catapulted into their home. And just when life had begun to take one of its most wonderful and unexpected turns, just when she and her stoic Captain had found themselves falling in love - Zeller had struck, instigating a series of events that would test the limits of their strength for months to come.

Almost from the minute she'd set foot in the ballroom on the night of the grand and glorious party back in Aigen, she and Georg had been confronted with difficulties and heartaches the likes of which she could never have possibly imagined. Their love had been compromised, they'd lost their home, their country, their livelihood - they'd witnessed unspeakable horrors, they'd starved, they'd said goodbye to friends and loved ones.. And while the horrors they'd faced along their tumultuous journey had almost been their undoing, each time they had come out stronger, proving time and time again that theirs was a love that knew no bounds. It was a precious gift, she realised, to know her captain in a way that no one else ever would - to know that under his formal exterior was a man who harboured fierce and raw emotion, emotion that he often couldn't bear to confront without her by his side - as his bulwark, as his lifeblood, as his very reason for being. It often floored her still, to understand the immense capacity with which this man of hers could love. It was that very same capacity that had led him to despair in the loss of his first wife, the very same capacity that had brought him back to his children, the very same capacity that had led him to her.

Her heart swelled as she watched him from her position on the picnic blanket where Johannes kicked and flailed happily, while his father gave chase to the youngest children through the maze of branches and leaves as they squealed with delight. She caught his eye mid-run and he came to an eventual halt, his long legs and broad shoulders the telltale sign of his strength - and he gave her a breathtaking smile before ambling over to join her. He sank onto his haunches then, his eyes sparkling and his hair ruffling against the wind, the dimples she so loved denting his cheeks as though he hadn't a care in the world.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him without the darkness churning in his eyes. And given that Robert's absence was still very much fresh in everybody's minds, Georg's unexpected contentment was more than Maria could've hoped for. Clearly, being surrounded by the devotion and joyful innocence of his children had done him the world of good, even if it was only for one afternoon.

Oblivious to her heartfelt thoughts, Georg ran a gentle thumb over his son's hair and met Maria's eye again, his boyish grin setting her heart alight as much now as it had done in their tree back in Austria. How far away there home seemed now, she thought, though it wouldn't be long until they would have to find a new home for themselves.

"I think he's getting impatient that he can't yet join in," Georg chuckled, his gaze settling back on his youngest son.

"Soon he'll be able to outrun you, old man," she teased, and he had the good grace to look offended before his crooked grin gave him away. Settling into a sitting position next to her on the blanket, he took her hand, pressing it to his lips as they watched the children charge through the trees as though nothing could possibly break their spirits. It was incredibly moving to know that, despite the turmoil they'd each endured, they still had the ability to simply enjoy the essence of childhood and all its innocent wander.

It was a beautiful sight, observing them in their element, laughing and playing and caring for one another as though loss was merely an inconvenient obstacle that they would tackle together, one step at a time. They looked every bit as joyful as they had done during her very first night at the villa, when they'd danced away their fears of thunder and lightning in the bedroom of their wayward governess. And Maria knew, in her heart of hearts, that as long as these ten siblings had each other to lean on, they would be able to withstand any storm.

"Just look at them," Georg whispered in adoration, his face etched with melancholy but proud all the same, "our brood. Three sets of parents, two different languages, three different birth places - but every single one of them _ours_. Our babies."

His words stirred her so deeply, filled her with such unexpected adoration for the man in front of her, that she felt entirely robbed of oxygen.

"Kiss me," she blurted, without thinking.

He whirled round to face her then, his surprise evident, "Maria, I hardly think-"

"Please.."

He was a fool to think he could possibly resist. The truth was, he'd longed to kiss her all day but he knew that once he started, it wouldn't be the kind of kiss that witnesses should be privy to. He looked around wearily to ensure his children were too engrossed in their game to notice, before he cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to her own, running his tongue along the seam of her supple mouth.

He had intended to keep his ministrations rather chaste but the effect of her gentle whimper was instant and alarming, the flicker of desire that had licked at his insides suddenly roaring to life as she opened her mouth to him. It was immediately urgent and frantic and dangerous but he could hardly bring himself to care amidst the sensation of blood roaring in his ears. She kissed him back with equal fever, leaving him burning for more of her touch. But it was with a groan of reluctance that he eventually broke their embrace, all too aware of his body's aching reaction to her eagerness.

"Will that satisfy you, love?" He breathed, his voice thick with desire and his jaw set heavily in frustration. Much to Maria's surprise, the darkened flames had returned to his eyes - a heady mixture of adoration, pain and lust burning away in his irises - and instinctively she knew he needed to lose himself in her body again.

The billiard table encounter had positively redefined what it meant for him to use her body - he'd entirely lost control in those moments when time had fallen away and he'd pinned her with alarming strength, driving relentlessly into her warmth as his eyes had bore into her own with a fierce lust and possession that had set her alight. And she'd found that she'd delighted in it, unashamed and fearless, encouraging his intensity until he'd come entirely undone in the depths of her body.

They had scarcely touched each other in the two months leading up to their frenzied reunion and the lack of intimacy had clearly taken its toll on Georg, more so than he allowed himself to admit. It must've been incredibly frustrating for him, she knew - to be unable to find solace in her body when he craved it most. And now that he'd finally been able to unleash some of his turmoil through such a desperate and ragged encounter, she could tell, from the way his eyes churned with love and desire, that he needed it all over again.

"It's not nearly enough," she rasped, the sound striking an arrow straight to his heart, "I need you just as badly as you need me, you know.."

She watched as his eyes fluttered closed in lustful frustration, though she knew deep down this was simply his way of allowing himself to be truly vulnerable in her arms.

"Soon," he whispered pressing a kiss to her forehead, the promise leaving her breathless. But the flames were abruptly extinguished by the sudden reappearance of several of squawking children.

Georg gave a weary chuckle and a bashful shake of his head as he reluctantly put some distance between them, "all ours.." he murmured wistfully, gazing upon their brood once again.

Maria grinned despite herself, and they fell into a comfortable silence, each lost to their own thoughts as they watched the children in all their mischief.

After a time, she broke the quiet with a solemn sigh, "you know, despite everything.. I think I'll miss this place," she breathed sadly, "after all, it's where I bore our first child. It's where I met Thomas and Lucy. Where I learned more about Agathe. Where Margaret and-" she gave pause before forging bravely onwards, "-and Robert welcomed me into their home."

Georg said nothing, his eyes downcast and his face a stony mask.

"But it's time isn't it," she whispered, knowing the answer to her own question before she'd even uttered it.

She watched as he nodded, his face eventually breaking with unspoken anguish, though his voice was surprisingly steady when he finally spoke, the words coming out barely above a whisper, "yes. It's time."

And she knew almost instantly, without the need for explanation, that her husband's words rang true. His affairs were finally in order and there was nothing left for them in England anymore, save for painful memories and a dangerous uncertainty. It was time to claim their lives back, time to build a new future of their own making, time to live in peace and contentment, free from the heartache of war.

Wordlessly, with his face set in brave determination, Georg reached for one of the knives they'd brought with them on the picnic, and bent towards the bark of the tree that lay behind them, shading Johannes from the heat of the afternoon sun. She knew by now what he was about to do - that he wanted to leave their mark in a country that had so deeply left its mark on them. But when he finally moved aside to reveal their familiar emblem engraved in the bark, she was taken aback and deeply moved to discover that another marking of a similar kind lay boldly beside it - the intricate carving bringing tears to her eyes as it seemed to etch itself into the deepest recesses of her heart.

 _RW + MW._


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N: me again! I hope you enjoy this next update and I think the next chapter may be the last!**

* * *

The days following their peaceful afternoon in the woods seemed to fly by, but while Georg had expected a flurry of activity in preparation for their imminent departure, he'd been surprised to discover that a melancholy kind of stillness had befallen the household instead. Even the trees surrounding the country home seemed to hold their breath in silent anticipation, weary of the uncertain, cautious of the unknown, awaiting the untold future.

They'd finally let the children know that it was time to move on, that it was time to make a better life for themselves - and each of them had been altogether giddy with excitement and utterly petrified all at once.

Little Thomas had given a squeal of enthusiasm, flailing his arms and babbling - in an idiosyncratic mixture of English and German that he'd adopted over the months - about the fact that they were all going on a great adventure on a ship not too dissimilar from his little model boat.

Lucy, still so young and unsure, had become momentarily confused and asked whether her parents would be joining them on their journey. Georg had found himself suddenly lost for words, but Maria - his light, his angel - had gathered the girl into her arms and told her that while her mother and father were in heaven now, they would still be with Lucy no matter where she was in the world. It had moved him deeply, to see his Maria mother yet another child in need of love, a child that wasn't her own and yet received an adoration just as fierce.

A grave look of understanding had been shared between Leisl and Friedrich at the news - the oldest two siblings who together had shouldered the biggest responsibility in losing their mother. Georg knew they'd been forced to grow up faster than their years demanded, and they'd consequently grown closer for it. The pair of them shared a unique bond, a bond that touched Georg's heart - blonde and thoughtful Friedrich, so much like his mother.. dark, bold Leisl, not unlike himself - so different from each other in nature and yet so close as a result of such tragedy.

Prickly Louisa had softened somewhat in those moments, asking with a solemn sadness whether they'd ever return home. Where _was_ home now? Georg had thought darkly, wondering whether she was referring to their refuge in England, their time spent in France or the years of wonderful memories that remained in their beloved Austria. But he knew deep down there was no question about it - his daughter was referring to the long evenings spent by the fireplace in their drawing room singing songs and playing games, the long summer afternoons spent frolicking in the lake, the breezy autumn mornings whiled away riding bikes past the Salzburg mountains, the starry nights spent gazing through the glass walls of the family gazebo, the breeze sweeping through the trees like a restless sea - every aspect of the place he'd called home for over twenty years. How he yearned for it, how his children yearned for it. If he allowed himself to dwell on the memories they'd left behind for too long he felt as though the world was about to cave in on him. But he resolved to never, ever bury the past again, for as long as he had his memory to guide him. Instead, he'd do all he could to make sure his children never forgot the wonderful life they'd shared at 53 Aigen.

Much to Georg's relief and welcome amusement, Kurt had broken the unbearable tension by creasing his face in a serious frown, demanding to know immediately whether schnitzel with noodles was an available dish in America. He'd been crestfallen to discover that schnitzel wasn't all that popular in their chosen destination but his little eyes had sparked with wonder at the mention of burgers and fries smothered in ketchup. It seemed that as long as his middle son's appetite was satisfied, then the boy himself was satisfied.

Brigitta, though rather timid about the uncertainties of a new start in life, had been persuaded by the prospect of the many universities she'd one day be able to apply to - colleges that offered educational opportunities the likes of which she could only dream of as a young girl from the smallest corners of a warring Europe. With a brain as sharp as hers, Georg had reassured her, she'd be able to do great things. She'd cracked a bashful smile then and suddenly his future had been flashing before his eyes, watching his inquisitive daughter adorn the stage in her robes to accept her scroll with pride.

It was baby Gretl that had perhaps shocked him the most. Rather than wail or cry about the loss of her material possessions, rather than quiver in fear at the prospect of a new life, she'd sidled up to her father, face scrunched in a concerned frown, looking him straight in the eye, and asked, "how will you feel about leaving father?" And he'd found himself suddenly transported back to the grassy bank in Ermenonville where he'd collapsed in a heap of despair and his little girl had turned the tables of their relationship by wiping away his tears with a gentle hand. His remarkable little Gretl, who'd never known her mother and yet harboured every ounce of Agathe's fierce compassion. Her innocent question had entirely knocked the wind out of him.

Uncle Max - _thank God_ \- had saved him the turmoil of an honest response by lightheartedly exclaiming to Gretl that of course her father was nothing but excited by the prospect of traveling to America, for the land of opportunity was absolutely rife with talent the likes of which even the impresario could only dream of. Save for the von Trapp family singers of course. Everyone had fallen about laughing then and Georg had given his friend a silent nod of gratitude from across the room, a look that Max had returned with a nod of his own and a weary smile.

Perhaps the hardest reaction to come to terms with however, wasn't the vastly differing thoughts and feelings of his children, but the deeply stirring reaction of his mother in law. He'd found her nestled in a chair in the earl's drawing room that very same afternoon, clutching at what looked to be an old photograph of some kind. He'd taken a moment to simply watch her from the doorway, startled by the sudden resemblance to Agathe. Almost instantly he'd been reminded of the times he would find his late wife poring over a book in her favourite corner of the library back at home, and he would take a moment just to gaze at her before she'd become aware of his presence and chastise his nosiness with a dazzling smile.

The earl's drawing room was quite considerably smaller than his library back in Aigen, or the lavish parlours of the Whitehead's country home in Northampton, but it was every bit as beautifully decorated. Quite evidently the rakish Earl had allowed his mistress to inject a woman's touch into this particular room of the house, for it was the only space in the manor that seemed truly welcoming in comparison to the almost boorish decor that dominated the rest of the household. And what a fitting room it was for such a delicate, elegant woman as Lady Whitehead, her long skirts cascading elegantly to the floor from her position in the armchair, her grey hair coifed perfectly atop her head, her face so thoughtful and melancholy as she'd gazed upon her prized photograph. She'd looked more like Agathe in those moments of private reflection than he'd ever seen her, and he'd found himself suddenly frozen to the spot - as though he'd suddenly been sent back through time and was standing in the doorway of his library once again. Or perhaps he was looking into the future he and Agathe might've shared had she lived to be as old as her mother. Would she have looked like Margaret in her old age? He'd wondered with a small smile tugging at his lips. Perhaps she would've been even more beautiful, even more elegant, even more worldly.

Either way, it hardly mattered. Margaret had looked almost ethereal in her mature elegance in those moments as he'd watched her from the doorway, entirely unaware of her curious onlooker, and he'd found himself making a silent promise to Agathe that he would always do everything in his power to protect her mother.

"Did no one ever tell you it's rude to stare, Georg?" the elderly woman had pierced his moving reverie without so much as looking up from her photograph, "it's no use standing idly in the doorway now is it. Was there something you wanted?"

"What have you got there?" He'd asked curiously, pushing himself up from his resting position against the door jamb and making his way to her side.

"It's one of the only items I managed to pack in London before we fled the city," Margaret had cracked a weary half smile and run her fingertips over the glass of the frame in her lap, "it's my favourite photograph - it lived atop the sideboard in the hallway at home back in London and I almost forgot to take it with us. It wasn't until we were about to step out the front door that I saw it and hurriedly stashed it in my bags.."

Curiosity stirred, Georg had taken up residence next to his mother in law, perching on the broad arm of the cosy chair and peering over her shoulder, eyes narrowing in interest. He'd followed the trace of her fingertips as they glided over the faces outlined in the grainy black and white image, and as the profiles had come into focus, he'd recognised the two people instantly. He'd seen the photograph before in fact, many years ago.

There in the frame sat a young man adorned with a moustache and a thick head of dark hair that had been parted and slicked back meticulously. He was sat ramrod straight in a chair that had evidently been placed specifically for the photograph, and in his lap sat a little girl, her light hair pulled into tight pigtails and her little legs dangling off her father's knees as he held her in place lovingly. The man's gaze was fixed on the little girl, an adoring grin etched into his features, and the object of his affections was looking directly into the camera, an impish smile spreading across her face as though she couldn't possibly be happier.

"She was _so_ beautiful," Margaret had whispered, following the lines of Agathe's childish face with her fingertip once again.

"Yes," Georg had agreed simply, "she was." He'd placed a firm hand on Margaret's shoulder then, welcoming the lump that had formed in his own throat. There was once a time when he would've shrunk away from such an intense feeling but these days he found that he savoured it. It was a welcome reminder of how much Agathe had meant to him and how her memory would never be forgotten.

"Where were you when this was being taken?" Georg had asked.

"Ah," Margaret had given a nostalgic laugh then, a laugh that had momentarily surpassed the sadness in her eyes, "it was meant to be a family portrait but Robert was larking about so much that the photographer was refusing to take the shot, so I had to take matters into my own hands and get behind the camera myself!"

Georg had given a hearty chuckle then as he looked back at the picture of a much younger Robert and his daughter. He'd been tickled by the thought of a boisterous baron and an impish Agathe sharing in their silliness while the no-nonsense Baroness lost her patience and shooed the cameraman out of the way to take the picture herself. He had been able to see the moment captured in real time as he'd gazed at the grainy image - the baron's adoring smile and Agathe's cheeky grin making it appear as though father and daughter were sharing in their own little secret.

As quickly as it had come, Margaret's laughter had died on her lips, replaced instead by a darkness that seemed to shroud her like a cloak. She'd taken a shaky breath and Georg had felt, through his grip on her shoulder, that she was trembling.

"God how I _miss_ them, Georg.." she'd breathed, barely above a whisper, a single tear suddenly splashing against the glass of the frame, "and now _this_ is all I have left.."

"That's not true," Georg had protested fiercely, whirling to face her so quickly that he nearly fell off the armchair, "you have your memories! _Thousands_ of them. Just like I have my _own_ memories of Agathe and I wouldn't trade them for the world now. Maria helped me to realise that. And we may have lost our material possessions, even some of our loved ones, but the Nazis can _never_ take our memories, Margaret!" he'd felt the anger starting to rise in his chest like bile, Zeller's face, Himmler's face, Hitler's face swimming in front of him through the red haze of rage as he considered how it was possible to hate anything as much as he hated the Third Reich. But he would die before he allowed them to break him. It was his darling Maria who'd given him the strength to rise above the despair that could have easily engulfed him. She had shown him that he could turn the darkness and evil on its head and use it to gather hope, determination, resolve, love - until he was entirely convinced that they were utterly indestructible as a family. With every hit, every loss, he found himself becoming even more determined to provide his family with the future it deserved. His darling Maria had shown him that they were blessed just to be breathing. And with her by his side, he knew he would never stop fighting.

"And you have _us,_ " his eyes had bore into Margaret's with a fierce intensity, "you have ten grandchildren who worship the ground you walk on. You have a son in me, a daughter in Maria.. and I suppose you have some kind of lovable pet in Max.." they'd shared a wry chuckle then before Georg had forged on, gripping her frail hand in his, "the point is Margaret.. now is not the time to give up. Now is the time to fight the hardest." He'd watched, as the tears had pooled in her eyes and she'd swallowed hard, her face set in righteous conviction, "It's time.." he'd insisted meaningfully, and she'd nodded without so much as a single hesitation. And he'd known then, in those few moments, that his mother in law had some fight left in her yet.

And now it seemed that the time to pursue their new life was finally upon them. They were due to leave at the crack of dawn and, as he lay awake staring at the bedroom ceiling the night before their departure, waiting for the hours to tick by until they would have to get up and make their way to the port in Liverpool, he found himself consumed with fear and excitement all at once. He couldn't possibly determine what kind of fate would await them in America - if they even made it that far - and he was riddled with anxiety that he might not be able to provide his family with safety and security when they eventually arrived in New York. He and Maria had agreed that they'd somehow make their way to Vermont to settle, where the mountains and lakes would remind them fondly of their homeland - but his sole priority at this point was to simply get the fourteen of them safely into the country. All their papers were finally in order, his fortune was secure and the Blitz had calmed enough to make travel seem less deadly. But still the fear gripped him in an unwelcome vice.

To his surprise, he was urged back into the room by the woman laying next to him, who turned to face him and placed a comforting hand against his chest, warm and soft as satin.

"I can't sleep either," she whispered, running her fingers languidly through the curls beneath her fingers, "are you scared?"

He gave a tight nod, his eyes eventually moving from the ceiling and locking with hers in their anguish, "terrified," he whispered into the semi-darkness, "do you think less of me?"

Her answer didn't come in the form of words, but in the way her lips joined the path of her fingers, grazing languidly across his skin and causing his breath to hitch against the fiery trail she left in her wake. Her warm frame was pressed against every inch of his, anchoring him, consoling him, offering him a harbour in which he would always find home. She pressed hot, open mouthed kisses against his collarbone, his neck, his jaw, his face, as though heeling invisible wounds - and he felt his body stir instantly to life against her comforting ministrations - confronted with a sudden and deep ache to be inside her, to be as close as two people could possibly be. How fiercely he loved her - his wife, his bulwark, his very lifeblood. And he found that he desired her not as a body to conquer, not as a physical source of relief, but as a soul that he desperately needed to worship. He ached for her very being - her strength, her joy, her innocence, her wonder - he needed her to seep into the deepest recesses of his soul and light the darkness, right the wrong, soothe the turmoil that raged within.

And as he sank slowly into his wife's body on their last night in England, inch by excruciating inch, he resolved to memorise every heated gasp, every burning look, every desperate plea, as though they were as crucial to his existence as the very oxygen he breathed. He loved her slowly, lazily, delicately, entirely lost to an intoxicating abyss of love and sorrow, pleasure and pain, loss and life - and he realised he was in no hurry to leave such a place, delaying their pleasure to the point of near-hysteria.

As time stood still and the world faded to black around them, her desperate cries filled the room until she was fairly begging him in broken gasps. His whole body burned for release, his orgasm threatening to tear through his body and rip them from their rare and carnal refuge - but still he held off, delaying the inevitable, unwilling and unable to give her up - his angel, his siren, his Maria.

It wasn't until she finally grasped him firmly around the hips and held him as deep inside her as he could possibly be, her nails digging into his skin and her desperate cries muffling against his mouth, that he felt her tighten around him, his body succumbing to the fire as they hurtled headfirst into the flames together.

* * *

It was at the crack of dawn that he finally woke her again with a loving kiss, the sun not yet above the clouds as they wordlessly gathered their few belongings and roused the children from slumber. It was wise to make a swift and discreet exit - for it was impossible to determine whether they were still being pursued in some way or another.

As they huddled together in the hallway, adorned in their travel clothes and clutching their little cases, Johannes bundled in Maria's arms, Georg and Max did one last sweep of the house before deciding that it was finally safe to go. It was still rather dark outside, the crisp morning air and thick fog dimming their surroundings with the silvery hue of dawn, making it the perfect setting for a subtle escape.

But as Georg threw open the front door and made to step out onto the gravel, he was halted dead in his tracks, dread unfurling in his stomach as he watched a darkened silhouette making its way through the fog and up the driveway towards them.

He froze, panic twisting in his gut as he watched the silhouette draw closer, entirely convinced that it would be Zeller coming to take his final revenge. The crunch of the gravel underneath the visitor's feet seemed to reverberate off the stone walls and rattle around in his mind, taunting him for what felt like an eternity as the culprit drew ever closer, as though in slow motion. He held his breath, entirely ready for battle, his heart hammering in his chest as he ushered Maria and the children protectively behind him - until the silhouette finally stepped out of the shadows and the entire world shifted on its axis, Georg's legs threatening to buckle beneath him.

"Hello Georg.."

Surely it was entirely impossible. Surely his eyes were deceiving him. It couldn't _possibly_ be..

But all doubt was immediately eradicated when Margaret gave a strangled cry that made the hair on the back of Georg's neck stand on end - a cry of earth-shattering anguish, a cry of overwhelming relief, a cry that seemed to shift the world out from under their very feet. And then she was shoving past Georg with unwavering strength, running as fast as she could towards their bedraggled visitor, her wracking sobs echoing around the courtyard as she flung herself into the open arms of the man standing before them.

It seemed that Margaret had more than just her memories left after all.

Robert had returned.

* * *

 **A/N: maybe it's too predictable, too cheesey, or just right - I'll let you decide! But either way I hope you enjoyed this update and in the next chapter we'll find out what Robert's been through.**


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N: as promised, the last and final chapter. I can't quite believe I've finally written it. It's quite a long one, and I'm not sure how happy I am with it - but I don't think I was ever going to be satisfied with having to write the final chapter! I really hope you enjoy it. I don't think it's possible to finish a story in a way that everyone will be happy with, but I've tried my best x**

* * *

"I simply don't know what to make of all this, you know..." Maria muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.

Georg gave a curt nod in agreement, watching his wife absentmindedly while she busied herself with making tea, shuffling around the kitchen agitatedly as she gathered an array of cups and saucers and brought them to the table in front of them. The old kettle whistled impatiently atop the hob, penetrating the tense silence, but neither one of them seemed to notice. So many words were yet to be spoken and they hung in the air like a ghostly premonition, as though both parties were too stunned to possibly voice how they were feeling inside.

Nevertheless, Georg knew that his Maria was never _quite_ lost for words.. and as if on cue-

"It just seems so.." she raised her hands and looked to the ceiling as if she would suddenly be able to conjure the words she was looking for out of thin air, " _impossible.._ "

"Not impossible," Georg murmured, his glazed eyes fixed to the steaming kettle intently, with arms crossed rigidly over his chest and legs crossed at the ankle as he leant against the cupboards behind him, "just highly improbable."

She fixed him with a worrisome look but his eyes were still glued to the hob, his jaw set in frustration, and it was immediately evident to Maria that he was deep in thought. Brooding, as he was so often want to do, about what had come to pass.

"It just doesn't seem real.." she replied wistfully, almost cautiously, fearful that it might all turn out to be nothing more than a twisted dream.

When Georg made no reply - and barely even moved from his brooding position - she turned away from him with a heavy sigh and removed the kettle from the hob to fill the teacup. The action seemed to momentarily stir him from his trance, for he stood up straight with a shake of his head and pushed himself off the cupboards to help her serve the broth, intended solely for the purpose of calming five sets of broken nerves. How was it that a cup of steaming hot tea could lessen the tension in even the most harrowing of situations?

Not that Robert's return was a harrowing situation. If anything, it was the most miraculous turn of events Georg could ever have hoped for. Surely though, he surmised, surely it was too good to be true? He hadn't yet had a chance to ask Robert how it was physically possible that he'd returned to them - shaken, withered, exhausted - but otherwise alive. For when they'd discovered his haggard form emerging from the mist that had hovered over the house that very morning, Georg had been entirely stunned into silence. He had found himself frozen to the spot, completely unable to process what his eyes were seeing. He'd thought, in those moments, that he'd finally gone mad. Mad with grief, mad with anger, mad with despair. The whole world had stood still, the silence so deafening that Georg had heard his own heart pounding in his throat.

And it wasn't until his brood had suddenly burst into a series of joyous cries that cracked through the eeriness of the dawn, following their grandmother's lead and shoving their way into their grandfather's arms, that reality had truly sunk in. And the relief had hit him like a blow to the chest with such unrelenting force that he'd found himself sinking to his knees against the marble steps, fighting for oxygen as he went.

He'd hardly recognised himself as he'd crouched there in a heap - sobbing, praying, howling to the skies as if the world that only moments ago had been ending was now only just _beginning_. It had felt, in those moments, as if he'd been freed of a rope that had been tightening around his throat. And he'd shed his turmoil unashamedly right there on the steps of the earl's hedonistic getaway, allowing the floodgates of relief to burst through him and wash away his anguish. His darling Maria had rushed to his side almost instantly, soothing his cries with a gentle hand through his hair - and he'd been overwhelmed with gratitude, for he'd felt as though he didn't have the strength to breathe.

And before he'd known it, he'd been hauled to his feet by a determined Max, only to find that Robert was ascending the marble steps towards him, opening his frail arms like a father to a small, frightened boy. His eyes, though bloodshot and pained, had spoken of nothing but unwavering warmth, and Georg had flung his arms around his father in law with helpless abandon, entirely convinced that he deserved no such affection in return. But absolutely nothing else had mattered in those earth-changing moments. For Georg had realised he had his father back.

And that was all he'd seen of Robert before the frail shell of a man had been hurried into the house by a sobbing Margaret. Since then, they'd ushered the children into the drawing room with Max, alongside strict instructions to sit tight, while he and Maria had made their way to the kitchen to put the kettle on. It was more a means of passing the time than anything else. He knew that the elderly couple needed some privacy in order to digest the enormity of Robert's return, and so he had patiently left them alone in the study to talk.

But that was thirty minutes ago, and he couldn't deny that he was becoming restless with worry and guilt about what had come to pass since he'd left Hampshire that fateful day. He was beyond agitated, desperate to talk to his father in law and find out what he'd been through, to apologise a thousand times over for having left him, to beg for forgiveness if he had to. And he found he simply couldn't rest until he'd gotten these confounded things off his chest. Waiting was not something he'd ever been accustomed to and he'd taken to pacing the length of the kitchen repeatedly to distract himself from his worrisome thoughts. Just a few more minutes and they'd be able to make their way to the study, he reasoned with himself, just allow them a little bit more time..

"Georg, _do_ stop pacing darling.." Maria chastised exasperatedly, "you're going to run yourself into the ground.."

He shot her a heated look that she was sure could only be described as a glare before he resumed his pacing again, worrying his lower lip between his fingers. She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air before moving towards him and grabbing his shoulders to still his erratic movements. He tried to pull away from her, refusing to meet her eyes, but she tugged him towards her stubbornly with surprising strength.

"Georg.. _Georg_!" She coaxed firmly, grabbing his hands in hers and gripping them so hard that he eventually stilled, his saddened eyes meeting hers with obvious reluctance.

What she saw when their eyes met filled her with sadness. He looked pained, troubled, anxious, forlorn - despite his father in law's miraculous return - and it made her want to shake some sense into him.

" _None_ of this is your fault," she whispered fiercely, her eyes burning into his with a desperate intensity. He was startled by her ability to read him so well but then again, she'd been able to read him like a book ever since she'd walked through his front door, carpet bag and all.

"- absolutely none of it! Do you hear me?"

He hesitated, his entire body rigid as the worry lines creased his forehead. How long would he insist on bearing the burden of what his family had been through? she wondered.

"Georg!" She insisted again with a sound bordering on a growl when he didn't respond, "Do you _hear me_?!" She shook his hands in hers as though trying to rouse him from his despair, her eyes alight with passionate determination, "Robert is alive, he's returned to us. It's a blessing and a miracle! Please don't tarnish it with unfounded guilt. I won't let it eat away at you like this! I won't! I _can't_ -"

She'd worked herself up into quite a frenzy, her voice becoming increasingly more shrill in her anguish as she gave a broken sob and gripped at his forearms for support, losing the fight. And that was when he realised that his strong, resilient, brave Maria was every bit as disturbed, every bit as shaken, by Robert's withered appearance as he was. She needed answers too, it seemed. How often, Georg wondered, had his wife masked the depths of her own inner turmoil in order to protect him from his own grief? In order to put his need for solace above her own need for reassurance? She was quite simply extraordinary. Selfless, wilful, more courageous than he'd ever been. His _Fraulein._

The tables had turned then and suddenly he was the one gathering _her_ into _his_ arms, hushing her worries in between gentle kisses that he pressed to her lips in a demonstration of comfort and adoration. She molded against him in relief, accepting the comfort he offered her through his languid caresses. They stood there for a moment, embracing in the solitude of the surrounding silence and pressing reassuring kisses to one another's skin, neither of them finding the words that ought to be uttered. Until, quite without warning, the atmosphere began to thicken with a newfound heat..

Within moments their kisses grew progressively more frequent, progressively more intimate, progressively more insistent - until she was suddenly throwing her arms around his neck with a moan of relief and fisting her hands into his hair. It happened so quickly that he wasn't sure who'd initiated it, but he found he couldn't care less as she melted her body against his and drove their entwined forms backwards until his spine made contact with the cupboards behind him.

The flicker of desire that had simmered in his gut abruptly roared to life with a vengeance. Much to his bewilderment and delight, it seemed that his wife couldn't get at him fast enough, for she was suddenly climbing him like one of her infamous trees, scrambling to get as close to him as their bodies would allow. And he couldn't deny that he absolutely revelled in her urgency, welcoming her advances like a starved man finally being fed. Losing himself momentarily, he gripped at her waist a little too hard and groaned against her tongue amidst their feverish kisses.

There was such a myriad of emotions flowing through his body - joy, relief, anxiety, fear, guilt - that it felt entirely wonderful to simply let go for a few moments, with his wife trembling in his arms. The uncertainty of what lay beyond the kitchen door could wait, he thought, as he grazed his thumbs over Maria's nipples through the silk of her blouse, feeling the pull all the way to his groin. The unknown would still be waiting for them on the other side when they finally emerged.. a few more minutes of stolen caresses wouldn't hurt anyone..

But it seemed that life beyond the kitchen door couldn't wait after all, for Max suddenly burst through the entranceway without so much as a single knock, causing Georg to catapult Maria across the room in his efforts to shove some appropriate distance between them.

She gave a startled cry as she stumbled over her own feet, fixing him with a fiery glare to which he could only respond with an apologetic grin and a bashful shrug of his shoulders.

" _Oh._. my apologies!" Max smirked as Georg hastily grabbed the flowery teapot off the table to strategically place.

"I just thought the tea might be getting cold.. " the impresario explained, "but it looks like you're keeping it rather _warm_ yourself there, Georg."

All eyes fell to the teapot that Georg was awkwardly clutching in front of his trousers and Maria stifled a giggle as she watched the blush reach all the way to her captain's ears. It seemed that more steam was coming off his cheeks than out of the teapot itself!

"Yes.." Maria agreed, biting her lip to keep from laughing, "perhaps it's time we checked in on Margaret and Robert?"

"Indeed," Georg grimaced through clenched teeth, giving up the fight and putting the teapot down with an aggravated thud. Why was it that he could always count on his best friend to both lighten the mood, and simultaneously kill it in the same breath?

* * *

Dread. That's what was eating away at Georg's insides as he knocked gently against the study door and gripped the handle a little too hard when given permission to enter. Of course he was overwhelmed with joy and relief that his father in law had returned, he could hardly be ungrateful to God for such a turn of events - but it was a melancholy sort of relief, a relief wrought with anxiety. For now he would have to listen to what his elderly confidante had been forced to experience. He would have to listen and take full responsibility for it - whether Robert insisted otherwise or not. He would have to listen and be reminded that he'd done the exact same thing to Max all those months ago when the impresario had pressed the keys to Franz's truck into his palm and insisted that he flee without him. He had abandoned them both and he would never forgive himself.

As though she were able to read his dangerous thoughts, Maria placed a warm hand on his outstretched arm, willing him to understand that he needed to leave such guilt at the door. Giving pause for a moment, he sent a grave smile her way, before the three of them made their way into the room.

"Tea lady, at your service," Max quipped with a roll of his eyes as he set the tea tray down atop the desk, behind which sat an exhausted Robert.

"Not got anything stronger have you?" The baron grunted with difficulty as Margaret gave a disapproving cluck of her tongue. He was slumped defeatedly in the plush leather chair, his breathing shallow and his head thrown back against the dark ridge of the seat. The baroness was sat by his side, clutching his hand so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Not once did she look up from her position, not once did she look away from her husband's face, not once did she so much as stir - it was as though she was terrified that if she tore her eyes away from him he would suddenly disappear.

"Maria.. Georg, my _boy_.." Robert rasped, a warm smile spreading across his face despite his evident fatigue, "come.. take a seat," he raised a withered hand and beckoned them closer, "Though you should leave your self-condemnation at the door, my friend. You ought to know by now that I won't stand for it.. "

Georg's eyebrows shot up into his hairline in surprise. It seemed his wife wasn't the only one who could read him like a book, for Robert was suddenly scrutinising him with the same knowing look as when he'd reprimanded him for his guilt over Agathe's passing. The baron knew, it seemed, without any need for explanation, that Georg would blame himself for what had happened.

"Self-pity is a wasted business.." Robert muttered to himself more than to anyone else, while his audience settled into various seats around him. If it wasn't for the gravity of the situation, it would almost appear comical, as though they were children gathering around to hear a bedtime story - but Georg knew this particular anecdote would be no fairytale.

"I suppose you want to know what happened.." Robert sighed, running a hand through his white hair and leaning forward in his seat, gripping Margaret closer to him. The whole room seemed to hold its breath then, and the shadows danced in the elderly man's eyes where once there had been a mischievous sparkle.

Gratefully, Robert took the cup of tea that was handed to him by Max and inhaled deeply before finally explaining, being careful to keep his voice low lest there were young ears eavesdropping on the other side of the door.

"I went looking for Max in the west wing but I couldn't find him anywhere.." he began, holding a firm hand up to silence Max when he opened his mouth to apologise. The impresario immediately fell silent and Robert surged on, "I thought perhaps you'd escaped through a back exit and so I made my way there, hoping to scour the outside of the building and find you on the way to the car. Moments after I left the building, the explosion blew the wing to pieces..." his face became overcast with grave shadows and he cleared his throat forcefully before continuing, "I ran back.. I couldn't leave our comrades to burn.. but the wing was a desolate wasteland. It was just a pile of rubble and flames. Some of the boys escaped but a lot were injured or... or killed."

Georg felt sick with shame, suddenly unable to meet his father in law's eyes.

"Eventually the Luftwaffe retreated and we cleared the damage as best we could. The west wing was destroyed but the rest of the base is still relatively in tact.."

Georg gave a pained moan and put his head in his hands, "oh _Robert_ , if only I'd-"

" _Don't_!" Robert snapped suddenly, his face like thunder, "Don't you say another word Georg!" His tone was so fatherly that his son in law was silenced immediately, "I told you to leave your guilt at the door! If you had never accepted your post, then we wouldn't have been able to build Sea Devil. And if you hadn't left me in the west wing when you did, Maria and Johannes would almost certainly be _dead_. The Nazis were bound to attack at some point. We are at _war,_ after all. So do not say another word!"

The silence that followed was deafening and Georg felt winded, as though he'd suddenly had some sense knocked into him. Maria had told him countless times before, of course, that he was not to blame for what had happened, and knowing that he had her support had always been an invaluable comfort. But it wasn't until his self-pity had been reprimanded so fiercely by his naval superior, by the man he deemed a father, by the one person in the world that he looked up to as an inspiration - that he felt the weight finally begin to lift from his shoulders. It appeared that Margaret had in fact been right when she'd said Robert would've boxed him round the ears for his self-pity!

"And what _of_ Sea Devil?" Max asked, breaking the unbearable tension.

"She's alive and well!" Robert retorted with a satisfied smirk, a jovial edge returning to his voice, "the Luftwaffe don't know she exists and it seems their attack left her miraculously unscathed. Thank God we weren't building her in the west wing as originally planned, that's all I can say.."

Hope filled Georg's heart unexpectedly, spreading like a warmth through his chest. It seemed that their goals had not yet been thwarted..

"As you well know Georg, She's almost complete," the baron continued, "the rest of the boys at the base will be able to finish what we started. She'll be ready for battle very soon - but sadly we won't be here to see her success."

"Does that mean..." Maria whispered, her face a mask of hope.

"Yes," Robert nodded with a smile, "we - Margaret and I - will still be coming with you to America. We are a family after all, are we not?"

The warmth that had bathed Georg's chest only moments ago suddenly exploded into a joyous heat that covered him from head to toe and he couldn't help the grin the broke across his face. Their new life would start with a full family and even fuller hearts, it seemed! Robert met Georg's gaze then and matched his grin tenfold, as though he knew exactly what his son in law was thinking without the need for words.

"I knew I didn't have much time to make it back to you all before you'd leave Northampton," Robert forged on, "and so I left Hampshire and hitchhiked my way back.. our remaining car was destroyed or stolen in the chaos, I'm not sure which. It took a few days for me to make it to Northampton and by the time I returned, you'd already left. Fortunately I knew exactly where you'd all be. There was only one other place Margaret and I had talked about fleeing to.." he placed a gentle kiss on his wife's cheek then and the baroness blushed fiercely at the unexpected display of affection, "I laid low in Northampton for a few days, mainly to get my strength back - and I managed to organise a ride with one of the neighbours who'd agreed to take me up north. But alas.. " he trailed off, his eyes downcast, "on the morning we'd planned to leave, I was about to make my way over there when some Nazi thugs beat me to it. I saw them storming the house, no doubt looking for one of us, and I fled on foot instead. I'm sad to say I'm not sure what happened to our neighbour but I like to think the Nazis wouldn't hurt him for the mere sake of it."

Raw hatred flickered dangerously in Georg's gut again at the mention of his foe, a hatred that fired through every synapse, every nerve, every vein as though he were about to burst into flames. He shook from the force of it and Maria's hand flew to his forearm once again instinctively, attempting to ease his evident suffering.

"Eventually I managed to hitchhike the rest of the way here," Robert pressed gravely, "And it's a good thing I turned up when I did as it seems I was just about to miss you!"

Georg shuddered at the thought of what might've become of Robert had they left for America before he'd had a chance to find them. It almost didn't bear thinking about.

"Speaking of which.. " Robert pushed his hands into the armchair and pulled himself up onto shaky legs, "we'd better leave very soon if we're going to make it to the port in time.."

Alarmed, Georg immediately snapped out of his reverie, "But can you travel in your condition?" He was on his feet instantly, moving to his father in law's aid, lest his frailty should get the better of him.

The baron gave a knowing chuckle and slapped Georg on the back with surprising strength, despite his withered appearance, "come now my boy!" He barked, "There's fight in the old dog yet!"

The words filled Georg with more hope than he dared to acknowledge, knowing that there had never been more truth in such a simple statement as there was in those moments. It was the exact same sentiment he had once comforted Margaret with when all had seemed entirely lost. And he knew, deep down in his very bones, as his father in law shared his knowing smile, that there would always be fight left in their hearts.

* * *

"Is _that_ it?! Is that _her_?!" Friedrich's excited exclamations were so uncharacteristically loud that Georg was entirely convinced that his son could've given the boat's foghorn a run for its money.

"Shh!" Maria laughed, smiling apologetically at the other passengers on deck, as the rest of the children broke into animated chatter, "yes Friedrich, I believe that's her.."

Georg followed his eager son's pointing finger to see the faint silhouette of the Statue of Liberty in the far distance, holding her torch out to the horizon as though she was guiding them home, lighting the path to freedom, welcoming them with open arms.

" _Finally_!" Kurt groaned with relief as Louisa thumped him on the arm, presumably for whining.

"Stop that you two!" Leisl reprimanded, and before long the ten of them were creating a terrible ruckus, bickering and shoving each other in their agitation. But Georg could hardly blame them for their restlessness. It had been a long and tiring journey after all, starting with a cramped drive to the port in Liverpool and a desperate search for fifteen tickets for the next vessel to New York.

It certainly hadn't been easy. The port had been swarming with refugees who, like them, were fleeing the horrors of a war that seemed as though it would mar the beauty of their homeland for all eternity. Robert had struggled the hardest, already weak with fatigue and exhaustion. But persistence and hope had seen them boarding the next ship out of England and as the days on the water had slowly flowed into a week, the family had become more accustomed to - even _excited_ by - the prospect of the new life that lay ahead of them.

Georg himself had never felt so free. They were on their way to safety, where his children would be able to grow up with independence and opportunity on every corner. They would live in peace, free from the shackles of warfare. He had his beloved waves underneath him. He had his wife by his side. And against all the odds, despite all the sorrow, they had made it.

"I can't see!" Thomas stomped impatiently, snapping Georg out of his thoughts, and he hoisted the little boy up onto his shoulder with a chuckle, so that he could bask in the magnificence of the unexplored land that was gradually coming into focus underneath the glow of the setting sun. The boy's little eyes widened in awe and Georg was momentarily lost for words as the birds soared against the pinks and blues of the sky ahead. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so utterly surrounded by love.

"Why don't you all go and find your grandparents and uncle Max," Maria urged the excitable brood in an attempt to stop the incessant squabbling, "it would surely be a travesty if they were to miss a view like this."

Her tactic worked instantly, for the children gushed with excitement and little Thomas scrabbled out of his father's arms at the speed of light to join his siblings as they all ran off through the unrelenting crowds.

"I hope they don't get lost," Maria grinned, turning to look out onto the water where Georg too was resting his forearms and gazing upon the scene stretching out in front of them.

"Unless they hurl themselves overboard, they can't go too far," he quipped, enjoying her horrified expression at the very thought.

A comfortable silence hung between them then, as Maria watched the birds dance in the sky and the gentle lap of the waves as they kissed the horizon, where America was slowly coming into view. She could hardly believe how much her life had changed since she'd first left the abbey - she'd been nothing more than a lost young girl who'd known very little of the world, with absolutely no idea what lay in store for her. Who would have thought she'd experience such overwhelming love, heartache, joy and sorrow from the moment she'd walked through the wrought iron gates of 53 Aigen?

She'd found the love of her life in a stoic sea captain, all the more stirring for his many complexities. She'd found her calling in seven boisterous children who had captured her heart. She'd mothered her very own son and adopted two other youngsters who were in desperate need of a mother's love. She'd gained a lifelong friend in Max, she'd found the parents she'd never known in Margaret and Robert - and as she gazed out onto the water before them, she felt as though her heart would simply burst.

The Reverend Mother had once told her that God was testing her, that God was willing her to discover the extent of her capacity to love. But Maria had never known, until this very moment, just how _much_ love she had to give.

"Our new _home_..." she murmured, breaking the silence as Georg nodded hopefully in the corner of her eye, "what kind of home will be waiting for us out there, I wonder.."

Her husband pondered for a moment, looking every bit as pensive as the first day she'd met him, as the gentle breeze ruffled through his hair.

"I'm not sure," he whispered, "but I know _one_ thing for certain..."

His eyes locked with hers then and she felt her heart swell.

"One of the first things I'm going to do," he stated simply, "is plant a tree.. "

To anyone else, the declaration would have sounded absurd. But to Maria, his words couldn't have been more perfect. And suddenly she was back in Aigen, when he'd first etched their symbol into the bark of their hiding place. Suddenly she was back in Paris, where he'd carved their emblem into the sapling beside the Eiffel Tower. Suddenly she was back on that ship on her way to England, she was back in the woods on that beautiful day in the rolling Cheshire countryside - each place a snapshot through time that harboured the mark of their adoration for one another. A mark that withstood the force of hatred, war and unrest. A symbol of hope and happiness, love and life, joy and refuge. And instinctively she knew, without a word spoken between them, that this new tree they planned to plant in Vermont, would be the last and final place they would ever have to leave their mark.

He turned to her then, a breathtaking and knowing smile adorning his features, the dimples she so adored denting his handsome face. And when he finally spoke it was barely above a murmur, a simple phrase that ghosted from his lips as though he were sharing a life altering secret that only the two of them would ever know about - a secret whose truth had always shone like a light through the darkness and bathed them in the warmth of a new and unwavering hope.

"M+G," he whispered, taking her hand in his, " _Always._ "

* * *

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N: I know, how can this be the end?! There are so many unanswered questions! Well fear not, there will be a lengthy epilogue to tie all the loose ends but I always had in my head that their voyage to America would be where this story draws to a close. I never intended to go into any detail of what would happen once they arrived in the US.**

 **But I _do_ plan to focus the epilogue a few years into the future so you'll all know exactly how it worked out for our favourite family. I hope you all enjoyed this story and I am forever grateful and deeply humbled by all your amazing reviews.**

 **Special thanks to:**

 **FM, Juliefreak133, IDontKnowYourSignal, Callumrogers7, Sakurapanda18, mucwriter, sherylhanlon, japf, CharleyPaige, Lindsay, Sandiline, , Scot, Cal89, bloghey131313, BrittanyLS, MarchelineBouvier, Sara KM, bloom &grow,BlossomOfEdelweiss, mommyelaine, NickyW, Emara88 - for your multiple reviews from start to finish!**

 **And all the unnamed guests who shared their thoughts on this story. It's taken me six months and without your constant feedback I would never have had the willpower to finish! So thank you again and I hope I've done our favourite couple justice. I'll stop gushing like a loser now. Stay tuned for the epilogue!**


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N: as promised, the lengthy epilogue awaits! A fair warning, the first half of this chapter is a pretty strong M. I figured after five years of marriage there's enough trust and understanding that they'd be less reserved in their desires. Plus these scenes are the most fun to write and I simply couldn't leave this story without one more steamy scene! Anyway! Enjoy!  
**

* * *

 _ **Epilogue**_

"Well done Fraulein, I really am very much impressed," Georg quipped with a mischievous arch to his brow as Maria moved away from the bark of the young sapling that had grown at alarming speed over the last few months.

She flashed him a broad smile with a playful roll of her eyes, recalling all too well the simple, yet stirring exchange that his teasing remark obviously referred to. Five years had passed since that particular encounter, an encounter that had left her momentarily breathless - though she hadn't understood the bizarre and sudden warmth that had bathed her body at the time. Five years since that fateful afternoon when she and the children had performed for their curious audience with a collection of endearing puppets. Five years since the night that her formal relationship with Captain von Trapp had drifted into unknown charters.

And yet the passing of time had done nothing to alter the memory of his approving gaze and the way it had lingered a little too long when she'd climbed down from the stage. Five years could hardly erase the recollection of his bashful smile, unwavering and genuine as the rest of the world had fallen away from them. No number of memories that had come before or after could blunt the intensity of those fleeting moments shared between them.

She remembered, with an inward smile, that she'd almost been relieved to escape the intensity of his stare, confused as she had been by what she'd felt. But then had come his rendition of Edelweiss and the fleeting warmth she'd experienced after the puppet show had immediately paled in comparison to the sudden and unexpected heat that had seared through her body when his eyes had met hers once again. How naive she'd been back then, allowing herself to revel in the wonderful new feelings that his gaze evoked, without truly understanding the consequences of what was developing between herself and her employer.

"Well, it's only fitting," she replied with a shrug, tearing herself from her reverie and gesturing to the rest of the orchard that lay before them in the golden light of the spring sunshine, "it would seem out of place to leave this one bare, don't you think?"

Georg grinned, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he followed her gesturing hand and gazed out onto their field of apple trees, each one meticulously marked with an identical emblem in the bark of their trunks. The oldest in the field - a four year old, 30 foot willow - was the only one of its kind in the orchard, stooping majestically in the centre of its smaller companions, like a stationary shepherd guarding its flock.

Georg recalled all too well the day it had been planted, back when the field in front of them had been nothing more than an empty, overgrown wasteland. He'd worked day and night to prepare the soil, allowing the manual labour to become a compulsion driven solely by his promise to plant a tree in the grounds of their new home. He'd become a man possessed, refusing to hire professionals and taking the shovel in his own two hands at the crack of dawn every day until finally the field had been ready. Sweaty and exhausted, caked from head to toe in mud, he'd run back to the great chalet that had become their permanent refuge in all its magnificent glory, nestled amongst the hills of Vermont's beautiful landscape. He'd found Maria and the children playing a game of cards on the hearth in front of the fireplace and before long, they'd all been gathered around in the fresh soil as he sowed the seeds of the sapling that would forever be a symbol of their unwavering fortitude as a family.

When the sapling had grown big enough, he and Maria had etched their symbol into it as promised, and as the months had turned into years in their new home, they'd planted more and more trees to add to their growing collection. The orchard fitted beautifully into the chalet's grounds, the reddy brown hue of the bark matching the mahogany coloured beams of the manor in which they'd found a lifelong home. It matched the glossy brown coats of the braying horses that galloped happily in the adjoining field. It matched the array of colours that marked the majestic mountains that seemed to climb high up into the clouds. And though it would never quite match the splendour of his beloved Austria, the life they had built for themselves in this beautiful place filled him with an overwhelming pride and a peaceful sense of belonging.

Home.

"Come," he pierced the comfortable silence, stretching out his hand for Maria to take. She reached for his fingers without question or hesitation and within seconds he was pulling her through the orchard to their beloved willow, with such boyish excitement on his face that she was filled with a sudden joy. She already knew what he was planning on doing - it had become customary for them to take refuge in their willow from time to time, climbing the young branches and nestling themselves amidst the leafy cocoon while the rest of the world seemed to dissipate for a few glorious minutes, before the demands of everyday life would make themselves known once more.

He made to give her a leg up but he ought to have known by now that his tree climbing Fraulein needed no such assistance, for she ignored his offer with a playfully derisive scoff and scrambled up the tree with effortless ease, making the act appear as elegant as if she were back on his terrace dancing the Ländler.

"Need any help, old man?" Maria teased with a delectable giggle from her position above him, and he gave a growl of mock indignation as he made his way to her side, the ascent coming easily to him despite his fiftieth birthday drawing ever closer. He nestled himself beside her and let his legs dangle freely from the branch, looking as boyish as Kurt had done before he'd reached teenhood. He turned to her then, his eyes gleaming with mischief and his loose shirt billowing slightly in the breeze. He'd long since abandoned the appearance of the buttoned up authoritarian and Maria had to admit she rather liked her captain this way - regal, masculine, toned and tanned from days spent outdoors in nothing but a Bavarian shirt and casual pants. And she found that the gentle curls that escaped from the parted material set her heart aflutter just as much as they had done all those years ago, when he'd first found her in her leafy hiding place.

"Why do you stare at me that way?" his eyes narrowed self-consciously under her approving scrutiny, but the boyish warmth remained.

"It's just.. you don't look at all like a sea captain, sir.." she retorted, an amused lilt edging into her voice as she recalled another of their shared memories from the very first days of their acquaintance.

He gave a jovial bark of laughter that brought forth the dimples in his cheeks and they shared a knowing smile, "did I ever?!" He asked incredulously.

"More so before than you ever do now!" She replied, stroking the rich hair from his forehead where a lock or two had fallen forward, making him appear almost devilishly handsome, "but I much prefer you this way."

His eyes fluttered closed and he learnt further into her touch, basking in the familiar feeling of her fingers raking through his hair.

"And what way is that, my love?" He asked, his voice suddenly husky as his eyes flew open, shifting to her lips while her hand travelled languidly to the place where his shirt hung open. Her fingers danced slowly across the curls she found there and he felt his breath hitch at the implication of her unexpected ministrations.

" _Unbuttoned_." She whispered salaciously, her voice rich with suggestive intent and her eyes wide with fraudulent innocence.

The contrast was enough to turn his blood hot and he gave a sudden growl of longing, lunging closer and capturing his wife's lips with his own, revelling in her gasp of surprise against his mouth. His kiss was immediately invasive and demanding, a sensation that Maria had not only gotten used to over the years, but had also found herself delighting in. She knew Georg's body as intricately as she knew her own and she'd long ago learnt to decipher the telltale signs of what he was feeling - whether it was the evident devotion that lay behind a languid caress, the obvious need that hid beyond a stirring embrace, or the ravenous hunger that accompanied a rough kiss - she recognised them all and welcomed them with as much ferocity as her first days as a young and curious bride. It was the latter he was administering now, his hands tangling into her hair as he tasted every inch of her mouth with a series of groans that caused the heat to unfurl in her stomach. Gasping for breath and gripping his shoulders as he moved instantly to her neck, she marvelled in the way their bodies responded so ardently towards one another, even after five years of marriage.

"God, it's been too long!" His breath was hot and intoxicating against her throat and she could feel the shudder of desire running through him.

"Georg!" She admonished with a breathless laugh, "you had me only a few days ago!"

"Precisely," he groaned, recalling the all too delicious encounter they'd shared earlier that week and finding himself confronted with a sudden wave of arousal, "too long!"

He was more than aware of how demanding he was being with his touch, how his hands seemed to wander over her body completely of their own accord, but he found he couldn't help himself - and likewise she was doing nothing to still his movements, welcoming his ministrations with eager anticipation. Five years of marriage had taught him exactly what his wife was capable of and he'd discovered long ago that she was unafraid and unashamed of their more ferocious encounters. He'd long since given up trying to protect her from the somewhat darker side of his urges.

Their tree seemed to do this to him more often than not, confronting him with memories of when he'd first realised he'd fallen in love with his governess. And every time they escaped to their little hideaway amidst the leaves of the orchard around them, he found himself filled with a sudden and overwhelming gratitude for the woman before him - a ravenous need to suddenly be close to her, to possess her in a way that only he was permitted. And the resulting love-making over the years had spanned from the gentle and languid, to the kind of commanding, rough and primitive encounters that turned him into a man possessed.

"Where are the children?" He rasped.

"The house.." was her barely audibly reply as his fingers skated over her nipples, toying with the buttons of her blouse mercilessly, "with Max... Except Friedrich - he's out.. with Kathryn."

Georg gave a grunt of approval as his hand slipped underneath her blouse and cupped a warm breast. It was no surprise that their blond haired, blue eyed nineteen year old had found himself a lovely American girl so quickly, but Georg had at first been worried that his eldest boy might perhaps inherit some of his own rakish tendencies from his youth. He made a mental note to have a word with his son about it later but at this particular moment, he found he couldn't care less. As it was, the children's current preoccupations left him and Maria at a distinct advantage.

With great difficulty, he abruptly tore his mouth away from hers and attempted to catch his breath, delighting in her immediate whimper of protest.

"Come on," he implored, taking her hand in his and helping her jump the few feet down from the branch with him.

"Where are we going?" She asked as her feet landed on solid ground and he immediately began pulling her further through the orchard, away from their willow and the house that lay beyond it.

When he gave nothing by way of reply she chanced a sideways glance at his face and felt her breath suddenly catch at the raw desire she discovered churning in his eyes. He didn't meet her gaze but instead stared straight ahead, his jaw set rigidly and his feet charging forward one after the other as he pulled her along with him.

Within moments, the stables came into view, and her heart hammered in her ribs with anticipation as she realised his intended destination. Surely he didn't think..

But she didn't have time to ascertain whatever it was he might be thinking, for he threw open the wooden door, pulled her inside the shadowed stable and pinned her against the timber with the weight of his body before she'd even had time to think.

Mere seconds passed before his hands were in her hair again and and his teeth were wracking over the skin of her neck and collarbone, making it difficult to focus on anything but the fire spreading from his point of contact. He was utterly insatiable when he was in one of these moods, often catching her entirely by surprise at the most unexpected moments. But far from being put out, she found it thrilling in a way she never would've thought possible when she'd been a chaste though curious postulant. He was using her body primarily for his own pleasure and with his insistent desperation would come a kind of ecstasy that she could only have dreamt of. And as his fingers flew down the row of buttons on her blouse, parting the material and shoving the cups of her undergarments aside impatiently, she felt a knowing smile tug at her lips. Two could play at this game. She would undo him with effortless ease.

"Where's your riding crop?" She managed to choke out against the warm pull of his mouth on her nipple.

He stilled abruptly, unable to mask his sharp intake of breath as he pulled back to look at her, his eyes wide with astonishment. Was she suggesting what he thought she might be suggesting? His instinct was to hesitate but it was her eyes that gave her away as she flashed him a look of pure fire through her thick lashes. There was no mistaking what she meant. Her gaze spoke of her tacit permission.

"Oh _Maria_ ," he rasped, burying his face in her breast again and taking a moment to breathe heavily through the arousal that her suggestive question provoked.

Wordlessly he slipped from her arms, his eyes burning a hole in her flushed face as he reached blindly for the crop that hung from the hook behind the door. He looked positively devilish as he held her gaze unashamedly, his irises darkening under her scrutiny as she watched him curl his fists around the leather and bend it dangerously beneath his fingers. She couldn't quite recall at which point in their marriage he'd revealed this particular side of himself to her - or perhaps it was a new side that she'd somehow unknowingly drawn out of him - but she knew she would've been entirely too overwhelmed as a young virginal bride to understand it. Now that she was more accustomed to the many different shades of her Captain however, it seemed almost obvious that he would harbour a darker side. For all his gentle caresses and loving affections, there was a part of him that would always be the chilly, stoic authoritarian - hopelessly compelled to possess and control her.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and dangerous.

"Turn around, Fraulein."

Pulse thudding at her throat, Maria complied, a shameful delight uncoiling deep within her as she wondered whether the reserved Captain von Trapp she'd met five years ago had ever felt the unorthodox desire to put his unruly governess in her place.

She heard the rustling of hay beneath his feet as he approached her achingly slowly until a firm, warm hand caressed the back of her neck, the skin of her shoulders - until he took hold of her blouse and tugged it down her body. Her undergarments followed and she splayed her fingers against the timber for support, her heart in her mouth. He took a step away from her and she could hear his ragged breathing as he admired the blank canvas of her back, the cool leather of the crop skating featherlight over her skin and leaving a fiery path in its wake, until it came to rest at the base of her spine where the material of her skirt obstructed his affectionate assault.

"Take it off." He sounded every bit as cool and controlled as he had in the foyer all those years ago, but she knew that if she turned around she'd see the turmoil raging in his eyes where his mind was battling with his body. She might've been the one under his command but she knew that it was he who was being driven mad with desire.

Again she complied, another smile tugging at her lips as she heard his groan of longing. How her Captain loved the illusion of control, but little did he know that she ruled him just as fiercely.

Georg attempted to calm his primitive thoughts as he drank in the sight of his wife draped before him, her clothes pooled at her feet and nothing but her garters to keep her modesty, entirely at his command. He'd been so ashamed at first, when he'd discovered just how much he sometimes wished to dominate her - almost beyond reason. As it turned out however, she'd quickly proven not only that she encouraged such desires, but that she could equal his fervour in every way.

The gentle crack of the crop against her

skin forced a gasp from her as the heat of it spread across her backside, and she felt the colour rise in her cheeks at the wicked shame of such an act. The second swat that followed was just as gentle but firm and she felt, rather than heard his shuddering rasp. With meticulous precision, he caressed her body with the soft leather - her thighs, her hip, her shoulder blades - administering an unexpected swat or two in between when the anticipation would become too much for him. Who would surrender first, she wondered, as the arousal building within her became almost too intense to bare. Who would eventually give in and beg for the inevitable? She knew, in the end, that it would be her words that would send him into a frenzy.

"Did you imagine doing this?" She gasped provocatively as he administered another swat,"when I was a disobedient governess. And you were my employer. Did.. did you think of doing _this_ to me?"

The intended effect of her words was instant and intoxicating. She heard him freeze, the silence so palpable she could've sworn she could hear his thundering heartbeat reverberating off the walls. There was his sharp intake of breath, the sound of the crop clattering to the floor, the unmistakable hum of his zipper, a frantic rustle of hay as he thundered towards her - and then his entire body was flush against hers, his strong arms encircling her waist and the evidence of his arousal straining warm and hard against the base of her spine.

"Yes, _God help me_ ," he growled against her ear, reaching round to palm her breasts and nudging her legs further apart with his knees. She'd barely had time to congratulate herself on her victory before he filled her entirely with one ardent thrust, rewarding them both for their delayed gratification.

She saw his hands then, positioning themselves stiffly next to hers against the timber, locking her in his sheltered embrace as he buried his face into the crook of her shoulder and moved rhythmically along her body. There came a deep ache within her at this wonderful violation, her loins throbbing painfully with the reality of what her normally unflappable husband was doing to her. He'd moved beyond the primitive, beyond the carnal, panting in her ear and clutching her as close as she could possibly be.

She found herself wishing she could see his face, knowing it would be contorted with pleasure, his eyes squeezed tight shut as he worked them both into a frenzy. As he moved faster and faster against her, she was vaguely aware of one of his hands leaving the wood, moving to cup her breast, sliding down her abdomen and lower still - until he found the heat of her centre and began to tease mercilessly with skilled fingers. He slowed his insistent thrusts with ragged breaths that ghosted against her neck, seemingly in an effort to bring her to the brink of sanity with him. And she realised her nails were biting into the wooden slats of the wall as the pleasure began to build unbearably within her.

"What would you have done, Fraulein?" He murmured in her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth, each word punctuated by a nudge that skimmed the fire inside her body as his fingers worked relentlessly against her, "if I'd administered such a punishment?"

The hint of a smile quirked at her lips again as she attempted to imagine the unlikely scenario, she as the wayward postulant and he as the despicable employer, exerting his unwavering authority during their regular meetings in his study. What would she have done as a young but curious governess? Run for the hills? Cower in fear? Cry out from the sting of pleasure and shame? Either way, it hardly mattered, for he'd just given her the ammunition she needed to drive him completely over the edge.

"I would've.. disobeyed you again and again," she gasped, throwing her head back against his shoulder as he rewarded her by quickening the pace.

"Why?" He rasped.

"So that you'd have no choice but to teach me a thorough lesson."

Georg was entirely unable to contain the shout that tore from his lungs as her words sent him headfirst into an immediate and ferocious release. Burning all over, he drove as deep within her as he possibly could, shuddering and jerking helplessly as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. And it was his frantic response, the realisation of what she'd done to him, the relentless stroke of his tireless fingers that finally undid her mere moments later, the ecstasy thundering through her body as she felt herself fall limp in his arms.

They knew nothing of the world as long minutes passed, clinging to each other, the only sound the roar of their harmonious heartbeats and the harsh bursts of their shallow breaths as he pressed languid kisses to her shoulder.

" _I love you_ ," he implored, awaiting the sting of shame that he ought to feel after treating his wife so roughly. He knew that the guilt would never come however, for the trust they had built between them over the years left him entirely safe in the knowledge that his Maria not only welcomed such a dark level of intimacy, but craved it just as much as he did.

"I love you too," she murmured, "that was.. _exquisite_."

He gave a bashful chuckle as they disentangled themselves from one another and made quick work of their clothes. Within moments, they were respectably dressed and composed, as though the entire encounter had never happened. And it was just as well, for the sound of thundering footsteps could suddenly be heard approaching in the orchard outside.

Frowning in curiosity, Georg made his way out into the grounds and shielded his eyes from the sun, watching as a ruffled Max came charging into view, waving his hat impatiently as he ran.

"There you are for Christ sake!" The impresario cried, coming to a halt and grasping his knees as he attempted to. catch his breath, "I've been looking everywhere for you! What the devil are you both doing down here!"

Georg threw Maria a nervous sideways glance and replied somewhat stupidly, "we were checking on the horses."

A long and painful pause hung between the three of them as Max's eyes narrowed in confusion. Maria could've smacked a palm against her forehead in exasperation at her husband's ridiculous answer.

"You mean the horses that are grazing over in the paddock?" Max asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder and peering past Georg into the clearly very empty stables. A knowing smirk suddenly graced the impresario's features then, and an unwelcome blush crept into Maria's cheeks.

In any other circumstance the impresario would have loved to watch his friend squirm, drawing out his discomfort for as long as was humanly possible. But on this particular occasion, he had far more pressing matters to address.

"Never mind that now!" He insisted, shaking himself back to his task, "it's _over_ Georg!" He was positively humming with excitement.

"Over?" Maria frowned, "what's over?"

"The _war_ of course!" Max cried, throwing his hat into the air and spreading his arms wide in a display of profound joy as Georg felt his heart leap, "the damned war is over!"

* * *

The evening's celebrations were some of the happiest moments Maria had ever experienced in her life. The sun hung low in the sky above the mountains as though blessing them with its warmth, the branches of the trees adorning the orchard swayed gently in the breeze, and the overwhelming sense of peace that befell them was enough to make her heart soar. The great big wooden table that normally belonged in the dining room had been brought outside onto the grass and a glorious feast had been served to keep them full for days to come.

Moments after Max had delivered the news, Georg had broken into a run towards the house without so much as a word leaving his lips, bursting through the front door to find his children, Robert and Margaret gathered around the radio atop the kitchen table. He'd waded through the little crowd in desperation and gripped the device in his hands, hearing but not quite believing the crackly words emanating from the box as the reporter confirmed what Max had already told him.

"I don't believe it," Robert had murmured, entirely dumbstruck as he'd leant on his recently acquired cane and gripped Margaret's hand, "I just don't _believe it_!"

His heart hammering in his throat, Georg had straightened up then, turning his head to find Maria in the doorway with a question in her eyes. Time seemed to stand still and the world seemed to shift on its axis in the moments, as the news had truly begun to sink in. And before he'd known it he'd been moving towards Maria and scooping her into his arms, twirling her round and laughing in utter relief, his brood staring open mouthed at such an uncharacteristic display of affection.

"It's _over_!" He'd shouted, putting Maria down and gathering each of his gawping children to him desperately, all the while laughing with the sheer weight of his joy.

" _Father!"_ Thomas' voice cut through his memory and he looked up to find the eight year old looking at him exasperatedly from across the table, "Leisl asked you to pass the bread!"

Leisl and her fiancé Mark, who they'd immediately invited to the celebrations, flashed him a knowing grin and he hastily passed the bread before his boisterous young son had the chance to tell him off again.

Now that he'd had the chance to take it all in, he allowed himself a moment to look upon the rest of his family - Thomas, Lucy, Marta and Gretl slurping happily on their drinks, perhaps the most settled in their new lives since they'd been so young when they'd first arrived here. Kurt gobbling his meal with as hearty an appetite as ever, a hunger that had reached dizzying new heights in his teenage years. The not so little genius Brigitta, her face buried in a book at the dinner table as usual. Seventeen year old Louisa, looking strikingly like her mother nowadays, especially after having lost some of her prickliness as she'd begun to move into adulthood. And of course, strapping Friedrich, who was so enraptured by the sight of his Kathryn perched beside him that he'd barely touched his food. How proud he and Maria were of them all. How proud Agathe would have been of her darling children.

With a inward smile he looked to the other side of the table, where four year old Johannes bounced on his grandfather's knee, Margaret cooing over him with evident adoration. Leaning back in his chair and letting the gentle breeze ruffle through his hair, he gave a contented sigh as he basked in the bliss of this sudden and overwhelming gratitude he felt for the hand he'd been dealt. He was undoubtedly blessed, far more than he had ever deserved.

"A toast!" Max yelled happily, raising his glass of red and swaying gently on the spot after a little too much indulgence. All eyes fell in his direction as the table fell immediately silent, awaiting his words of either wisdom or folly, depending on his mood.

"To friends and family!" He cried, "to peace and harmony! And to our beloved Austria," his eyes met Georg's then as he raised his glass higher, "bless our homeland _forever_."

Yells of _'prost'_ could be heard around the table and they all took a swig of their drinks, even the little ones as they giggled at their display of maturity.

"And you know Georg," Max continued as he settled back into his seat, a mischievous gleam in his eye, "I have some news that may add to your jovial mood, if it's even possible."

" _More_ gossip Max?" Maria teased with a raised eyebrow.

"Naturally!" Max grinned, "and from a knowledgable source back in Austria! An old navy friend I had the pleasure of calling today."

"On Georg's telephone no doubt!" Margaret chastised.

"Well how else could I afford it!"

Georg gave a hearty chuckle, knowing that even his best friend's sponge-like qualities could do nothing to ruin his ecstatic mood, "well please Max, do put me out of my misery."

"According to my source," Max began gleefully, "the attack on your Hampshire base four years ago was orchestrated by Zeller outside of official orders," the titter of conversation around the table was abruptly extinguished as everyone leaned in to listen to the impresario's tale, "He was stripped of his post and sent to help the war effort, rumour has it - as a marine. He should've been court marshalled if you ask me but reducing him to such an inferior rank would've been far more humiliating for him, I imagine. And the u-boats were in desperate need of men at the time," he paused to take a long swig of his drink, revelling in the anticipatory silence as everyone gawped at him in disbelief, "anyway," he continued with a wicked grin, "it turns out that Zeller was aboard one particular u-boat that was hit rather badly by a Royal Navy submarine. Blown to bits in fact. And rumour has it," he drawled gleefully, "that the allied submarine was none other than _HMS Sea Devil._ "

Georg's chest entirely constricted, suddenly battling between the sadness that came with the loss of the young lives aboard the u-boat, and the victory that accompanied the fact that justice had been served to such a cruel individual. His gaze locked with Maria's then, finding all the love and devotion there that he knew he'd ever need to remain a happy man, and the sudden wave of adoration he felt for the woman before him almost knocked him breathless.

And when he finally spoke, Maria knew his words were for her and her alone.

"A force to be reckoned with indeed."

* * *

 **A/N: and there we have it! I can't quite believe it's officially over but alas it couldn't go on forever. Please do leave your final thoughts and thank you again for all your wonderful words along the way. I'm so grateful.**

 **I hope to write more stories soon so if you gave any particular requests do let me know as I'd welcome some inspiration!**

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